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Nov 2012
Days, stretching to infinite proportions,
a gnarled oak, stark white against the cerulean sky,
distorting and twisting within itself,
aching to be complete, still, silent.

Nights, a lone swimmer's watery nightmare,
caught in the depths, darkness yanking feet down,
struggling upward
yearning to break the surface -

Howling and shrieking at an empty door
locked from the outside
to protect trembling walls
housing
nothing.

Is this who we've become?
Mindless drones who've arrived at the future,
cursing the past?

You overtook us swiftly, still trembling with rage,
your vise-like fingers softly caressing,
embracing our fragile necks,
each second drawing us closer to the final countdown,
knowing, but never quite comprehending
that we can never escape your cold lair.

And you -

grinning ironically,
peering down at us,
your playthings,
stumbling through this labyrinth;
blind mice, oblivious to our demise -

you will reveal everything
in Time.
ŠMW
Melody W
Written by
Melody W  The eye of the hurricane.
(The eye of the hurricane.)   
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