The doors are open and shadows are creeping in
They come with nights and gloomy smiles of burn.
They linger above, near and ahead of me
They think, I think, I should never walk past –
Without trenching my dreams in their foul at last –
With haunting days and coming storms.
I have no way to run or turn the clock
The hands that tick are faster than death
It will drink me in its gory cup
And toss me away when I am fully gone.
Then it will creep in through another door
And find a stranger that is me some more…
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