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It’s like being stuck in Possum Springs, In a changing town and a dying church, A fading life and an aging world. The stores on Main Street are closing, Have you seen it? It’s all small here, hidden away, so There’s no escape from the people; They all know me, They all know what I’ve done. They won’t forget and I won’t leave Because I love it here, The childhood I never outgrew. And we’re all broken here, Together and alone, The dust swirls as everyone moves on, And I’m too naive So I keep hurting them, Saying the wrong thing. It’s precarious, walking these telephone wires, Looking up at the stars. And Mae, she was a violent child, And me, I was a monster. Bea, she can’t see a good future anymore And I can’t find hope. And Selmers, she writes the empty away; We are poets, the both of us, Writing about this weird Autumn Where I came home for a while. But it’s night in the woods now And there are spirits in my dreams, A Whatever-god who tells me It’s too late for us because The forest god is gone. It’s the end of everything and I’m trying to hold on. So Greg, you get out while you still can But I don’t think I will die anywhere else. Author's Note: This is a poem inspired by the indie game Night In The Woods. (It's a story-based game with lots of dialogue and it's art. Also it's kinda heartbreaking but it's so good) Also it relates to my life a little too closely so I wrote a poem about it