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the nostalgia.
i escape from what haunts me
in the midst of the night.
i wake through smothering demons,
i must find the light.
they cling to my limbs and scratch me
as i creep through the panicked door,
and although the night air mutes them,
i can’t take is; i want more.
my bare feet know the path
while my mind can only obey,
my breath comes heavily with nerves
from the possibilities darkness conveys.
my sleeping mind says foggily
that this is where i’m to go,
i follow an imaginary map
to a place where everything glows.
behind a battered old building
made of crumbling auburn bricks,
i find where satan is slaughtered,
where i am no longer prey to his tricks.
the iron gate creaks open
and i slowly tremble through,
a lavish garden upon a great hill
i have been immersed into.
the flowers bloom soft,
the flushed color of little-girl cheeks,
while trees hang low and sheepishly
on the cusp of a fuzzy sleep.
such beautifully foreign words,
from my lips they bud,
i trace trunks of weeping willows,
and out seeps virgin blood.
i conclude i am in heaven,
left breathless under its spell,
but the sky fades gray and ashen
and i fear its rumors of hell.
that black and heavy murk
slithers down my spine,
as it begins to pour
i walk a minuscule line.
my heart thuds loud and strong,
the flowers wail and cry,
he appears through that god damn gate,
fury pounding through his eyes.
oh lord my pulse quickens
and i try so hard to run,
but my feet are that of cinder
and i fear i’m surely done.
his hands clutch at my throat
and throw me to the ground,
when i can no longer take his blows,
it seems i have been found.
with hair that drips down gold,
i have seen an angel cry,
and eyes that pause the world
to a place where silence flies.
her red lips murmur forgiveness,
while her lashes defeat the wind,
she rips me away to safety
and defeats he who has sinned.
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