The Murderer’s Curse
Through me like a knife, the screech deafened my mind.
Stopped me in my tracks — rain froze me in my stride.
Even the moonlit woods offered no place to hide.
I can see the face in the tree.
I can see the face in the cloud.
I can feel the silent cold breath next to me,
Though the night burns hot and burns loud.
I can feel, when it sits next to me, the pressure of grief I have bound.
I can see darkness move at night,
Where peace from no rest will for me ever be found.
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