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Soil

The spots I'm seeing connect,

forming an image through my cold sweats.

I feel like a jest but nobody's laughing,

it's silent like the inside of a coffin

at the graveyard, only sounds are

the footsteps of the drunken night guard

playing cards with the dead.

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Written by
daniel-magner
American
Published
Jul 30, 2013
Lines·Words
7·46
Notes

Daniel Magner 2013

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