There are voices black with laughter harsh as crows barking.
They call me by name while I cringe in an unholy place to await their passing.
I will not face them in the dark of night, nor confront them in the light of
day. I fear their taunts and rebukes. Their arrows are unerring and practiced.
I will not struggle against them, for they are my children. They are the
offspring of my failings.
When the evening tide wanes in vile bilious waves; I settle behind curtains drawn to pray to my hollow god that something/anything will happen to relieve the isolation of my republic of pain. All I seek is some other channel where my ghosts can rest in peace and I can get some sleep.
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