It lies dormant.
Waiting for the perfect chance.
Reminding you of its existence,
it's never-ending presence.
Your ghosts of the past.
It hides beneath the covers,
with long nails waiting to prance,
its darkness waiting to happen.
It lurks within your hair,
it loiters behind your chest.
And when the right time comes,
It takes over the rest.
Your brain, your mind,
Your heart or your soul.
Or what is left of your memories,
and your blood that has turned cold.
You fall victim to the same darkness.
Stronger than before.
They say time can heal,
But yet you can't stand tall.
But through this darkness you must endure,
like all the times you've done before.
The light will come, the pain will numb,
until you breathe no more.
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