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When tons of doom filled nights fall on your head, hot embers glow and fires burn unabated, you recall her last breath and wish you were dead. In a poem's sad lines you've been castrated. From the heavens a voice thunders dire threats about losses and breakfasts consumed without eggs. Fumbling about, looking to hedge your bets, you drink your cold coffee, down to burnt dregs. On waking you find dawn's hard hammer fell last night's burns are reminders of strife. You stumble and look up from the pits of Hell, recounting the reasons why you lost your wife. Your clock chimes out vulgar curses at you and your house bids you leave by peals at noon. You think of the ancient, wicked dreams, too, as night falls with its wretched lucent moon. You dream of hungry tigers eating your boots. Your house is perched atop two adjoining trees. A hunter fires; but it's not a tiger he shoots. Your second wife cuts off your legs at the knees. With life's blood flowing from your severed veins your heart bemoans that you married once more. By morning you were free from nightmare's pains but horrid memories linger behind closed doors. What vast burdens you bear in fear of sleep and hollows in your mind fill quickly with dread. When your clock strikes twelve, I hear you weep, " Odious anguish! I wish I were dead." Shadows dance on your walls in candle light. Dark images of her body pressed close to you, waltzing in your arms on a moonlit night but she vanishes when dawn's rays break through. Which sort of dream scars your mind with more grief? The ones in which you're butchered; burned by fire, or when daylight steals her away like a furtive thief? Will your penance release you from the leeching mire... the terror you encounter each night as you lie abed? Foolishly, you once thought love claimed your heart. Therein lies the angst of what you most dread... the vexing memories in dreams that tear you apart. Co-Written with Robert Lindley based on the original verses he offered in the open challenge on his blog.
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