STEVE H.W.
  • STEVE H.W.
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When I feel like writing one

2/27/2018

 


The night is where the demon lies

when, all day, when the sun slips

it detects the pieces of your heart

the fresh wounds and unamendable scars

dried tears hidden in day-dreams and paranoias

the little kid underneath that pinstripe suit

every lie behind every word and smile


it happens to be


as soon as the sun abandons this earth

just when darkness rides high and might 

“Hunt!” hear the demon cries

flesh dries up in those scars as blood drains away into another world

it devours you into a piece of dust

mute, deaf, blinding brain scraps saying there is no tomorrow

“Make it stop!”

toss and turn,

and just then

a new, strong sun shines again, come in to rescue

so you may close your eyes

and sleep again.


​

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