For one last cigarette before you step into the graveyard. For the hand you feel on your shoulder that you choose to ignore. For the figure in the distance who is watching you. For floorboards creaking as you try to fall asleep. For sprinting to the door so they don't catch you. For the friend you buried who still visits you every night. For nightmares that crawl out your mouth and slip underneath the windowpane. For the night when what you fear becomes what you're running from.

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