Feb 2020
The dark doesn’t scare me anymore.
I don’t see your face in my dreams.
The panic attacks are gone.
The night terrors are too.
Often, I walk through
that park. On my
way to spit
on your
grave
I don’t see your face in my dreams.
The panic attacks are gone.
The night terrors are too.
Often, I walk through
that park. On my
way to spit
on your
grave
A nonet. Dedicated to those who survive.
(M/USA)
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