They tried to comfort me, I knew
they would. The less sane I appeared
the closer they held me to their bodies.
Who really knows what a headless man
is thinking or why his heart continues
licking its lips for the last red liquid
form of living? It happened so quickly,
as most children's stories do, with all
the colorful pictures exciting the senses.
But when that last page is turned and night
swallows the hero, the heroine, all
that's left is a frightened cartoon
struggling to stay awake.
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