Dread Looms, Time Pauses
Insidious shadows swallow my sun.
I'm in the dark, blind.
And I wait.
It waits.
Clock ticks. Hands unmoving.
No echoes in the still chamber of a heart on hold.
And I wait.
It stirs.
"I'm sorry." Doc says, papers rustling.
Brittle leaves of hope crushed by weighty words.
Still, I wait.
It gloats.
I wait for the worst, I want the best.
It wants me.
It claims me.
And I fold.
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