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Sep 2010
Feet singe the carpet outside the door.

Once again, I'm tickled black.

The shadows creep, the darkness plunders.

No one is there.

Mind agitation; sleeps glares down the clock.

Hear the cry, the eyes awake.

Crisp and young, they sense a being.

A frail hand hugs a tender ****.

Not a soul to speak.

The darkness laughs! But behold, a sound.

He's cowers. His mistakes, ascertained.

Begging for mercy, but too late is it now.

The feet smell the patter of the rain.

"Forewarned.", snarled the storm.

And the water cooed her subjects into the abyss of sweet slumber...
Written by
Michael Andruzzi
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