A new poem for Panprosdexia, on the sixth of the month

I cannot see, for my eyes are covered by the dark.
I cannot hear, for my ears are muffled by the dark.
I cannot smell, except for my own fear.
I cannot taste, except for my own death.

Reach out, says Panprosdexia, and take my hand.

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Published by

Merri-Todd

Writer, musician, polytheist, and friend of birds. I like science fiction, fantasy, and superheroes a lot.

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