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Oct 2021
i feel him, even now
somewhere, deep in the depths of my mind
is a small boy
buried six feet deep in a coffin
carved of bone

i hear him, even now
screaming and scratching
(in vain)
his anguish muffled by the wooden planks

on those rare nights when he breaks out
clawing up through the dirt and mud
gasping for air through the floor
he finds himself in a manor of memories

a house, of sorts,
thoroughly haunted,
locked away in a labyrinth of logic
each recollection rationalized to high hell and back

sins from my father and violence from my mother
ghosts of the past,
troubled thoughts and painful words
etched into my existence

and the nightmares begin to scream, too
demons and ghouls crawling out of the shattered mirrors
beckoning to the frightened boy
to join them

i hate him, even now
for the cold sweats that
he sends to me, a soul frightful
damaged beyond repair

and so I close my eyes
taking a deep breath
making my way through the maze
untouched by the shadows that torment him
for i am a shadow, myself

knocking down the door,
he looks to me,
with tearful amber eyes
and pleads for sweet release
"friend, please."

if I knew how, I would.

shovel in hand
i drag him back down,
kicking, screaming,

and bury him alive once more.
mal frost
Written by
mal frost  20/M/canada
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