fredag 27 november 2015

...and the rest is echoes


My tired eyes see ghosts pass by in the corridor
They do not look nicely at me
No, they do not look nice
I hear echoes of taunting voices
They do not speak kindly to me
No, they do not seem kind
But the absence of you had to be filled

Running like rats and mice
The memories dart through my mind
Gnawing away on the last few grains
Of calm and sane I managed to save
While I fled from things that made me wild

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