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Friday, September 10, 2010

The thing, risen

She sees through eyes
Into hearts
A place I hide so deeply
Folds of flesh
Pockets of soul
A brainless thing, feeding off the living
Though I long to be like her
I do not belong to her irrationality
The belief in humanity
That is not her's
Is ignorance her drug?
Sleeping forever in soft soil
Sleeping beauty
Never noticing
The hopelessness of the world which she clings
Won't you die with me?

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