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This doesn't happen all the time,
not even often.
I'd go so far as to say
it tends to go forgotten.

         However...
There's an element there,
one that ceases neglect,
one that remembers
how simple and perfect
this one
                                   random
              act can be.


I'm not sure who it is
          - but I never really need to be.
I don't recall most of them,
but there is this little part of me
that can't forget
                          each face.

It's not catching them wide-eyed,
         so they can see me smile,
as I affect their death.
It's that scent
        -when you get close enough-
when adrenaline senses
                catch
the panic on their last breath.
©2009 ~nightmandl
:iconnightmandl:

Author's Comments

"Don't think I don't know sympathy,
my victims in my shadow, staring back at me...

There's robbers in my thoughts.
They tell me what to think.
They're hiding in my clothes,
crawling in the kitchen sink."

-Robbers by Cold War Kids

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:iconchaian:
it makes me want to walk up to someone and sniff them.
nice imagery, nice sense-alertness.

--
spysays :
I write to watch the pen dance...
--
My page...
My job... W.I.P
-

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May 26
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