Stiff Poem by grim blackhart

Stiff



i stand still in this place
afraid.
its the perfectly clean, crisp air
that burns my nostrils.
its the crunch of gravel
beneath my feet
as my weight lightly shifts legs,
the moon that shines on me,
exposing my body.
its the need to run,
denied by the freeze of fear.
my restless eyes fixed on suspicions
of life and death
and everthing in between.
its the cold that burns my fingers,
that makes my skin feel thinner,
and unseen forces lurking behind my back
that im certainly not imagining,
that i know are truly there......

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grim blackhart

grim blackhart

wonder land! ! : D
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