Posted by Becca (184.108.40.206) on May 08, 2000 at 23:42:52:
I wake, it's dark still, I know why he's come. I sit alone with him, sometimes an hour or more. He brings his dagger, he knows I fear. He wins the battle, but not the war. I will fight back, my strength reborn. Something must break him of this dreadful habit. He comes again. Stronger, yes, stronger still. My legs grow weak, I cannot run. How weary I am. But give in to him, I cannot oblige. I contain my anger, I hide my fear, but I cannot hide my tears. I cry for me, I cry for others who know his face, I cry for all the things we've missed and all the things we've seen.
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