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Mar 29
I hear things at night,
In the dark.
Things most people would dismiss
In an instant.
Wind against my window,
Whisking away fallen leaves
From the frosted ground.
Creaks and groans as this
Aging house grows even older.
A little girl crying,
Wanting someone to help.
Needing anyone to listen,
To answer her desperate pleas.
I hear her every night,
But there is no helping.
She mirrors my actions,
Imitates my feelings.
We are two of the same,
But the people who know me
Only know her inverse.
The image I strive to maintain,
The one that slowly gnaws
Away at my sanity.
The true girl hides
Beneath the surface, and emerges
When the daylight leaves us cold
And in the dark.
imperfectwords
Written by
imperfectwords  F
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64
     suzanne and Simpathi
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