Living Kills.

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            It's not a metaphor, this ache.

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          My darling can you hear it?Something's lurking in the leaves, I can feel its preying eyes on us, From somewhere in the trees

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          My darling can you hear it?
Something's lurking in the leaves, I can feel its preying eyes on us, From somewhere in the trees.
And is it me or is this forest, Suddenly making you feel small?
Like we could run for our entire lives, And not get out at all.
I think it's getting closer, But then again I can't be sure, For every time I think I hear it, It's not quite where it was before, We both know we cannot keep up, With its unrelenting pace,
That it will always be the winner, In this unfair lifelong race, But until its breath's upon us, There's so much more to still be done, My dear don't let it catch you, All that's left to do is RUN.

Living Kills          𓃶.           Stranger Things



  

                                                
































Edna Eloise was named a killer.

A truth, it's all people saw in her.

It was a name she had to grow up too, to fill in the big brown boots with pieces of leather that were chipped away like faded mirrors. But there's a truth when it ringed through her rotten head that made an endless ache fill the back of her throat when the word was spat at her like venom with a tongue of a snake. It bruised the layers of her skin till it got to her rotten bones. Angry but bitter. Making a home. An effect of the venom. It was shown on the outside what was done on the inside so it was every time a new would stare approaching her asking why she was the way she was, she would sink into the familiar non-existent sand that would hold her feet down, and bury her under, silencing her, hands would crawl to her throat as she gasped for air because with every time she had to answer, her tongue laced with a filthy lie, it reminded her of her mother.

Living Kills, Steve HarringtonWhere stories live. Discover now