Tuesday, November 3

Scars

The horrors of the past burn in clandestine scars,
And I laugh at the conspicuous ones.
Who shall accept these skeletons in my closet?
They haunt every dream turned nightmare
And every smile tainted with tears.

The nights grow excited at my incessant pain,
They have seen sufferings of a greater degree,
And they seem determined to promote mine.
I beg of them to let the horror pass,
And they laugh devilishly.
-

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Letter to RAD - Take 3

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