Calm Be The Night

Who listens to my shouts in the night? When my beating heart rises and my breath falls short. A silhouette seeks passage in a shrouded cloak and my scripts are composed for one. Who is the creator of my subconscious soliloquy which narrates into an empty room? No encore sought, just a faded thought grasped in the morning light. Exhausted, my sweat drowns in a cotton wrap, beaten, submission arrives when my eyes meet the sanctuary of dawn.The epilogue is short, the words fall silent when my limbs, now weary, rise from its stage. Each night, a mare of twisted verbs that weave and turn. This suitor haunted through nocturnal tales where rest is brief and the journey fraught. My torment continues through the lottery of night. Let this one be calm? REM disorder Neurological disease Seeking a cure soon