Wasteland
There is a pull away from all this A hiding A desire to pull up the blankets and disappear Last night I slept above the covers as if prepared to jump up and run to grab flashlight and buck knife to locate the source of that noise What noise? The noise only some of us can hear that has followed me my whole life A long echoing doom that cries fire when fire is all that is left in the wasteland of echoes and ash Only the gray night is a witness And me with a dull white light that doesn't fully illuminate anything
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