A Madness Like Whispers (The Mandela Catalogue)

Fear, Madness like Whispers 
Coming from mirrors, or 
Somehow, always just 
On the other side 
Of your closed door 
Up until opening, when 
Warping, to new otherside 
Of your nearest closed door 
Like Blank, öDD black shadows 
Hiding inside a disguise, always 
Nearby in the corners of tired eyes 
No matter how rapid eye movement 
Neither when closed nor alive 

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