sometimes i feel the devil
and his dirty eyes
burning me alive...
inviting me to fall
into a comfortable numb.
but in that numb
a hatred dwells, smirking in the shadows.
i shrug him off and
pretend he isn't there.
my inner madness spills into a
thin black ink.
so you can read
what your eyes
while i sit
spitting thoughts from my fingers.
hurting and feeling.
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Edgar Allan Poe
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