K. Grey
My nights are not mine. My wrists twist as my mind is sucked into space and my face does not exist except for needles and pins I know I’m alive To resist is fictitious too In fights with frights I say, “Who would want to haunt me? I’m not worth a speck of a spector’s time.” Fritz drew my mind I avoid supine Better a demon on my spine than light in my eyes The thing that most terrifies Is knowing the sun will rise
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