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The Others

By singingdetective, Sugar Land, TX

Calculating eyes survey me in my sleep,

Callously watching me as I roam the graveyard.

Beating rapidly, my heart inspects those eyes.

Rasping voices ring in my ears, “You’re not good enough.

I was meant for him”.

Rushing, running, I hold him tightly

Fearing they will snatch him away.

Clawing, aching souls they are,

Moaning with loneliness.

Grasping, with their spindly hands,

They have no faces, no names.

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