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old

as the clock ticks i can hear the shallow breathing

it whispers my name but i deny it

i close the windows and lock the doors.

it seeps in through the cracks in the foundation

slowly reaching it cold fingers toward my feet.

i try to step over them, but i trip.

the fall is longer than i can recall

or will ever experience.

the crash is loud

and hurts so bad

that what we know to be pain would be a lovely escape.

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