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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

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Monster

~there's nothing in that dark, eerie room~

 

Monster 

 What? What did you see?

 It’s my job
To disbelieve
The one’s I’ve sworn
To protect, to claim that
You’re mad, the danger
Is a dream, the masked men
Are a metaphor for longing

 So stay here please
Close to the floor, don’t breathe
It’s best you don’t remember
All the terrors in the dark
That don’t exist

 Shhh honey, there’s nothing there
No, I’m not bleeding. I have no blood

 Why are you so frightened?

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