M. J. Fraser
When darkness closes in, ensnaring the mind
You find the thick tendrils gripping
The black holes ripping
At the soul
It can’t be whole
With wounds of past and days gone by
And wondering why
As nightmares attack
And the demons snack
They grip with iron fist
Pull and twist
For yesterday is done, it can't be won
No place can break it, not even the sun
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