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Jul 2018
Hmm?
What was that noise stirring in the darkness of my room?
Is that a voice?
Steps?
Or maybe it's just my mind?
Morphing the sound of the fan into mumbling whispers.
Shadows becoming my bottled up fears.
Distant screams from the past.
Leaving me troubled,
and alone.
And as the flashes of light subside,
and the sounds are covered by the chirping of summer birds,
I'll forget my terrors of the night.
Forget the vision caused by my rotten imaginations.
Forget the scent of carrion pouring out of my head.
Maybe it's just my rotten imagination
Elizabeth Zenk
Written by
Elizabeth Zenk  15/F/Getting There
(15/F/Getting There)   
198
   Fawn
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