Fight Or Flight
B
Barry Middleton
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the night is silent death
no angel stirs the trees
no whispers from the gods
to put my soul at ease
why must the night withhold
the peace of gentle sleep
with too much time to think
the shadows seem to creep
my fear leaks from the cracks
beneath a fractured dream
and flows across my room
like ghostly toxic steam
and yet I seem inspired
and shake my fist at death
resolved to fight the night
until my final breath
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