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Literature

Redundant Self

Redundant Self I think I should have let someone know But it would not have quenched the fire. What good could it have done for a dead man walking, The fallen or the ones on a funeral pyre? I am the reaper, but instead I rake the leaves, Of the men that came before, of the ones who died before. I’m weak now, or so it seems. I am the man who comes in day because he fears the nightmares tread, Or the dreams that draw me in, or the dark thoughts that plague my head. You believe my secret stories for they would not lie to you For their tongues are tied times over, their tongues lie and then they waver. Their tongues are dead upon