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Spite

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Spite

The Corner of the Room

I'm peering straight down at myself
In this place we are two of three
We are not alone
I can sense the presence of evil

I'm cold stiff, I'm petrified
In the ceiling, in the wood, in the walls
He hisses, he laughs
He makes himself known to me
I'm shaking, he's coming close
Not knowing who is real, I ask myself
What do I do?
What do I do?
He looked into my eyes and said don't breathe