"The Thursday"

Black, blank:  the eyes of insanity,

Have gripped me with their cold stare,

Were you even there?

Cold, death:  a certain profanity,

Arrested my soul with its own,

Fate. As the confusion was shown

Plain on your face,

It shone unknown.

Shaking, shaking, a heightened, pure fear.

Don’t come too near. . .

It’s you I fear.

How did it happen?

What stable being,

Subjected himself to an existence so fleeting,

That I had to question my every word said,

Even my thought,

Of why you wanted me dead.

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