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The Whisper In The Attic
"Voices carry here, my boy
They drift from open fields
Can get caught under the eaves
Sometimes, they settle in the attic
In the creaking of the joists
In the rot of old wood
And whisper things…
Things long forgotten-
Things best forgotten!
Don't listen t' them, boy
They ain't for hearin'!
Just let them bleed
Let them seep
Let the grieving
wail...
Saturday 25th June 2022 1:26 pm
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