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Ghosts
eidolic dread horses
have scarred your slumber
and even your furniture
has silent, open mouthed, nightmares
over the too soon dead school friends
who never ended their crossings
where there she stoops in shroud
ghastly knelt as in prayer
and you can’t see through the tricks
of light that scream “she is there”
your crumpling chest boiling
as the bones...
Tuesday 21st August 2012 12:24 am
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