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 You best to say your prayers, fiy
 , and sleep on your side. Less you want Cauchemar to come and take you
for a ride. Now say it after me, "Oh non da per el da fis et da
sant esprit
"Now I lay me down to slee--"
He a witch.
Then he a she. Or a demon. And a dead unbaptize. It don't matter
what he is. He take you for chval
 and won't hear otherwise. When he pull his reins into your chest,
he steal your voice, stop your breath.
I don't know what he look like me. Cuz. "I pray the Lord my
soul to kee--" Just this one time...
He got two gran jon
 holes with black slits in em for eyes.
What he do? You deaf? I jus tol you! He make me dead quiet. Like you
need to be. I was yellin and hollerin, but didn't nothin come outta
I was yellin and hollerin, but didn't nothin come outta me. 
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Author:Omorotionmwan, Philana
Publication:African American Review
Article Type:Poem
Date:Sep 22, 2012
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