And They Crawl

The dead crawl on me. From my feet to my head and back again.
They suspect me of knowing things that will come to pass, but I know not.
(And they have already passed, so why do they care?)
I think they try to awaken something within, but I will not allow it.
I will not allow it.
I will not allow it.
And they crawl.
Iā€™m in the market and they crawl.
Iā€™m in bed and they crawl.
Iā€™m in the chapel; still they crawl.
I choose to live my life without peace, rather than see what they want to know.

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6 thoughts on “And They Crawl

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