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Nyctophilia.

Quietness.

Thoughts riffle until they turn into piffles.
Stifle.
Lungs malfunctioning..whistle.
Cold chills running down my spine,
Non stop, no fizzle.
Heart beat .. drizzles..
Heart superficial..
But nyctophilia...
So it's okay..
I am dead..
It doesn't matter.
My heart has shattered..
My life has scattered..
Written by enervation
Published
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