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A strange creature stands guard. His dark hood conceals a face beneath, no features twitch only death can speak. A thin bone finger unfolds from sleeves of black pointing with a quiver towards the crossing, calling as he laughs. Bent rotten wood and hanging limbs create a canopy of haunting trim My extremities shake violent, fear suffocates the mind A voice ever so silent urges me across the line
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Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 12:45 PM UTC
The Crossing
A strange creature stands guard. His dark hood conceals a face beneath, no features twitch only death can speak. A thin bone finger unfolds from sleeves of black pointing with a quiver towards the crossing, calling as he laughs. Bent rotten wood and hanging limbs create a canopy of haunting trim My extremities shake violent, fear suffocates the mind A voice ever so silent urges me across the line
I had a dream of a haunting bridge, and wrote a poem about it.
Lahkeesha
Written by
36/F/Wisconsin
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 12:45 PM UTC
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