Dreams
The brief flash of a girl hiding in a corner
The Execrable slicing sounds
The copper taste of violence
The sulfuric smell of decaying flesh
The feel cool blade resting on the name of my neck
You run through this maze of white walls
You hear his echoing footsteps
You taste your own fear rising up in you
You feel a burning hatred scorching you
You smell his fear-inducing odor
And all I need is that cool hand at the small of my back
To know that that is not reality that is the past
Copyright © Nina Schulze | Year Posted 2014
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