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Spite
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The Corner of the Room
I'm peering straight down at myself In this place we are two of three We are not alone I can sense the presence of evil
I'm cold stiff, I'm petrified In the ceiling, in the wood, in the walls He hisses, he laughs He makes himself known to me I'm shaking, he's coming close Not knowing who is real, I ask myself What do I do? What do I do? He looked into my eyes and said don't breathe
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