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#eery
The eerie fog looms just below the treetops The sound of crunching branches fills my ears The owls, protectors of the forest, ask who goes there It is I, great owls of the forest A pause in noise, as if the world had stopped Suddenly Twinkling rays of the moon shoot through the fog Lighting the path ahead Like it had always been there I walk down the path, not knowing who is watching Or who is following Or if I will ever make my way home
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Mar 9, 2020
Mar 9, 2020 at 10:05 AM UTC
Eerie Fog Path
Strings, strings, wrapping around porcelain skin, For why does the bruises not show? With a waist, hip, and two legs that are so thin, For why does the skin always glow? Hair that never sheds, nor grows, nor messes, For why does the girl not wash it? With a merry face that still never truly expresses, For why does the face not show even a slight fit? Stoic, conjoined, the feet never stomping, For why does the limbs never feel frostbit? Perhaps it is a lie that the being is a girl, As it is only with strings that she can ever twirl.
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Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 6:43 AM UTC
Stringed Girl
sensations of eery and genuine fright woke me out of my uneasy slumber this past night-- I sat up straight and looked around and emptiness and blackness was all I found-- so went back into my dream and then awoke again to a violent scream my eyes flew open wide in fright and I realized then I hate the night.
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May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 5:35 PM UTC
I Hate The Night
Silent and alone, I solemnly gaze at the aged court. The hallowed roar of a steady stream Suffocates the atmosphere Like decrepit statues, they silently stare The deflated and beaten sphere in my tiny hands. Bitter tears, from the blackened surface Prickling my bare feet. Swish, thump, swish, thump. The rickety backboard half-heartedly Gives off a rattling cry. It's tattered net cannot take much more. An ashen pit, with stale passion Surrounding bushes gag On bleak sunlight. I dejectedly make shot after hopeless shot. A taunting figure cackles and booms.
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May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 9:12 PM UTC
The Neighborhood
my wrist yearns to cry my soul wills to break my heart throbs to seize spiraling into an inescapable depth darkness death paralyzing me not in fear but in reality for this is what I want. engulfed in silence my wrist cries my soul breaks my heart seizes
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Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC
seizing