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phobia
there’s something in the darkness,
so you cower like a little boy
afraid of shadows:
arms above your head and
eyes sewn shut.
and it approaches, slowly,
sniffing you out like a huntress
who makes claim of your shivers
and stutters.
they say there lies nothing in the night,
but you’ve learned to think better
of silence and stars,
because they shroud a
single truth—
that there’s something in the shadows,
and it’s coming just for you.
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