The fan spins in a dimly lit room.
A single bulb underneath illuminates the room.
I sit in a corner, leaning against the wall.
It provides comfort that no one is behind me.
I look in the corner.
I feel something looking back.
As the fan spins the shadows figure disappears.
Only in the shadows does it live.
In my darkness, it exists.
I reach for the glass of whiskey next to me.
As I raise the glass I can smell the alcohol, it bites my lips as I drink.
In the shadows I see him looking at me.
My sins, my mistakes, me who died a while ago.
Who died in a foreign land.
To come home I buried him there.
At my weakest, he gains his strengths.
I fight with myself to never let him out.
Push him back to the shadows.
Leave him buried in the past.
I sit in a dimly lit room, looking into a dark corner looking at the shadows of myself I lost a long time ago.
In the past is where I try to keep them, but the past has a way of coming back around.
Day #13 SJD
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