The Ugly Truth.

My poems. Feel free to take a look. Different poem each chapter.

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4. Tik. Tok. Tik. Tok.

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Goes the sound of the clock,

I hear footsteps by the door.

 

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Goes the sound of the clock,

I see the silhouette by my bed, dressed in black.

 

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Goes the sound of the clock,

I can smell the scent of death.

 

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Goes the sound of the clock,

I can taste dry air.

 

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Goes the sound of the clock,

I can feel his touch.

 

I scream.

He's here for me.

The Grim Reaper.

I... I... I... I must have... died.

 

He looks at me and smiles.

His hand rests firmly upon my shoulder.

I feel pain and look down.

I bled to death.

Stabbed.

There must have been a break in.

There's glass everywhere.

 

The Grim Reaper cackles loudly.

I cry for help.

No-one can hear me. 

Help. Help. Help. Help.

 

I sit up with a shot.

Thank god. It's just a dream.

I feel a sear of pain in my lower stomach.

Someone's broken in.

Glass is everywhere.

Help.

 

Tik. Tok. Tik. Tok.

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