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Dec 2017
Nights get heavy.
When every thought becomes a curse.
Sleep is waylaid.
When every subtle nuance you begin to nurse.

Hours grow long.
Rest becomes a dream.
Seconds start to undo...
Every stitch in every seam.

Shadows come to play,
as their dance warps your grasp.
Demons come to say...
That you’re welcomed in their sinister clasp.
ryn
Written by
ryn  πŸ‡ΈπŸ‡¬
(πŸ‡ΈπŸ‡¬)   
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