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At the EdgeAt the Edge
Standing at the ledge
Of the cliffs we call 'middle age',
For one moment, looking down,
I feel an urge to fall from its ledge;
Then a tender hand grabs my shoulder,
Catches me as I fall;
I stand still, in my place.
Then I turn to look,
And I see a tender face.
And I hear a soft gentle voice,
An impassioned call.
Saved at last,
By my love's grace.
Possessed. Chapter 4Sandra switched the night lamp on and got up from her bed, listening. No more sounds came from behind the door, nothing broke the silence anymore. She then started walking to the door slowly, reaching her shaking hand to the handle.
Come on, Sandra, focus! – she told herself mentally and opened the door, reaching for the nearby light switch. When bright light illuminated the upstairs corridor, Sandra looked around.
“Mum?” she asked in a fearful voice, but no answer followed. There was not a single sign of anyone’s presence in the house. Sandra then walked to her mother’s bedroom and peeked inside, but mother was in her bed, sleeping peacefully. Closing the door, Sandra went back to her room, trying to comprehend what was going on. If it wasn’t mother behind the door, then who was it? The young woman was totally confused. She didn’t really believe in supernatural stuff, but this was something that made her shiver. Their house wasn’t
At Least You Save MeTu, che dal grigio dei miei giorni mi salverai. E l'inverno dagli occhi mi asciugherai.
At least you are here. Or at least, that was my perception. You were always there, making promises. You were there to pick me up when I was drowning in my thoughts and my lungs felt like sponges dipped in formaldehyde. You were there when I was dwelling in the clouds of everlasting madness while hovering with the sun and moon, trying to get them to tell me their poetry through the night sky. You were there when I wrote my stories in the blood that was pouring from the darkened sky of my soul.
At least you were there when the salt soul of the ocean took away my vision, you were there when I couldn’t see the words with my own eyes anymore. You were there to read them to me, to say them out loud so I could save them in the muddy waters of my mind, forever to be kept there.
But you weren’t there when the talons were trying to grasp me from the shadows. You weren’t
Blanking Out The Bad DaysI don’t like to keep blanking out the bad thoughts
As this means missing out on whole days
In fact weeks, months and years are passing me by
Which tells me this is not just a phase
But that’s not what my loved ones like to believe
They tell me it’s my age and will soon pass
Their turpentine optimism is misplaced
As my future begins to fade like brass
I don’t like to keep blanking out the bad days
But of late I do not have much choice
See anytime someone asks if I’m okay
A tremble can be heard in my voice
Somehow though I always keep it together
Like a jigsaw laid out on a table
But when I am alone I fall to pieces
In a box with a ‘parts missing’ label
I don’t like to keep blanking out the voices
But they question each decision I make
And lure me into troubles as if they’re a puddle
When they turn out to be a lake
That is always just one foot deeper in depth
Than my fragile frame is tall in height
And I know if I keep blanking out th
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