It started out softly,
the voice in my head,
taunting all my choice,
throwing my mistakes in my face,
at first I thought it was my imagination,
my mind playing tricks on me,
but as the days pressed on,
it became more and more obvious this voice,
was not my own,
sixty days it said,
sixty days and I’d be dead,
sixty days to run and hide,
sixty days,
for me to die.
—
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