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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Crime/Gangster · #1483825
It is not only inncense that is lost.
Sleep is such a delicate bloom,

So sensitive to the atmosphere.

A change of light, a burst of sound,

Awakeness waits in the corner there.



But not that night, sleep lingers on,

As he steals into my room.

Awakeness sits in the corner there,

Cowering in the gloom.



His touch is cruel his flesh is foul,

Sleep banished in a scream.

Innocence dies in the corner there,

To become a forgotten dream.



Sleep is such a delicate bloom,

It flourishes in sweet atmosphere.

A Wicked soul and evil, feeds,

the brutal lust and carnal needs...



Now nightmares lurk in the corner there!

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