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what looked so good on the outside was so much better in.

walking steals desperation from the crawl.

when too much light has given  a fuse will blow taking more than sight with it.

the imaginary friends will fail to dream as sandman is waylaid by what lurks in closet, under bed

in the eyes of those most trusted.

in fear, the soul was raised in hopes, the ghosts were fed to stave off the spirits who spoke only of what  ending might breed.

the crib’s bars are the first borders  not to be crossed

next is line laid out by a lover.

the dearest of decisions declared

will uphold justice until only  the two between whom the pact was made does not find vengeance enough merely in the finality of a sentence.

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