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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1739652
Rated: E · Other · Dark · #1739652
a dark poem
I Am.

I am the demon, of which they speak.
Nightmares are die-casts of me.
They cannot remember my name in the morn.
They cannot remember their sleep.

I am deep shadows, from which they flee.
Their eyes search high for a friend.
I haven’t the honor to lend them a hand.
Their hopes, I blend with the wind.

I am the echo of things they have lost.
Their ears ring out for a sign.
They twist and turn and cry in the night.
Quietly, as the sea is too wide.

I am the voice that everyone knows.
I beckon their tears with a kiss.
I wrap them up tightly, though warm, they are cold.
For morning, relinquish a wish.

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1739652