Monday, September 1, 2008

Primal

They come in the twilight hours
Shadowy fingers stretch across
Irrational fears emerge in the
Minds of children snug in their beds
Adults laugh off such things
Protected by their florescent lights
The busy modern life where fears
Are medicated into nonexistence
Modern man is not immune
Primal man is still within, that
Is where the fear lurks, waiting

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