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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Dark · #1763084
It's not paranoia when they really are coming for you is it?!
Invisible Hand
Criss Dane



In the last light of day
From an ancient Lethe existence
Floating on the edge of sense
Where will-o-wisps come to play
The invisible hand waves in the distance

A jarring vortex, echoed rounds
My haven now a distant shore
I’m cornered deep within its core
As muted thunder sounds
The invisible hand knocks on my door

Incessant scraping, drawing nearer
Racing blood to hopeless crawl
I feel my soul begin to pall
Malicious thoughts becoming clearer
As the invisible hand rakes my wall

My heart thuds to a frozen silence
Rational thought going colder
Seconds turning eons older
Panic halting every sense
The invisible hand rests on my shoulder

Frigid pressure growing tight
My welling eyes begin to bloat
A voiceless wail, my final note
While swimming in a fading light
The invisible hand clasps my throat

A lingering thought of wasted living
All else lost in drifting sighs
And cutting loose of earthly ties
I feel the ebbing need to cling
As the invisible hand covers my eyes

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