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The Woods
May 19, 2023
I see the twilight. The moon, simple, desolate. I yearn to live a fortunate life.The twilight is home. The moon is a friend. I ache to laugh. I need to see pure red. I whistle inside the desolate forest. Look, my whistle is above you. You agonize when I speak. The scream is you. Broken ,cold, junk. I smile. Peace is never sane.
© Anonymous
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I love horror so with chance poetry you're limited so I found all the horror words I can.