I can feel him.

He’s sitting at my bedside.

His hands are around my neck.

His fingers are on the blade as it cuts into my wrist.

His voice calls me into the darkness.

He calls my name.

Beckons me to join him.

His is the voice I hear in my head.

I feel his cold breathe down my neck.

He is the shadow in the corner.

He is the gloom hung in the room.

I can feel him watching me.

Like a predator watches its prey.

He feeds off of pain and depression.

He is….Death.

The End

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