Don’t fight it.

The feeling.

Strangled the locks in the masses.

Don’t know which way to turn.

Inner goodness lives no more.

Sanctuary in turning inside.



Inescapably upon itself.

From wherein the outer glows.

Pulling weights bind the night.

Brace for less light.

Never more can it grow.

Don’t turn away.

Just come near.

Closer to the dawn of the dark.

Run backwards.

Talk to me.

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