Nightmares
Twisted nightmares
Fed from my darkest fears
That wakes me up wishing
That I never arose,
This is not a sad poem though,
Merely one of contempt
The hatred burns
The hatred dances
But I never wish it away
For joy is out of my grasp
Currently
And numbness is an escape
The fire burns steady,
I hold my hands to the flame
Copyright © Iggy Frost | Year Posted 2014
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