walking through the defiled halls of mind’s oblivion,
I happened upon a child with no face;
he did, in fact, have a head
upon a thin, sickly, neck
but with naught written upon it.
the child inquired as to my appearance
and I turned and strode on as my heart began to pound.
I came across many more of his kind
and, running now, these faceless beings began to follow
accumulating at every door I pass,
their silken frames reaching through the walls,
voracious hands searching for me.
why can I not escape?
Is it impossible to flee from those
that I’ve defaced?
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