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This shabby scarf which adorns my neck

Cloaks a band of intricate scars

Eagerly I wait for the twilight to lapse

As the witching hour draws near

I lay my body to rest beneath a tree

The string of symbols along my neck divides

My head maneuvers freely through the night tide

An open window invites me in

Inside, I see a man sleeping

He is awakened by my hovering grimace