Nightmares
Nightmares come
In the middle of
Your sweetest dream
They come from
The pits of your thoughts
And daytime schemes
They strike
You in your
Weakest hour
Like the bloom
Of a deadly
And poisonous flower
It attacks
Like a serpent
On its helpless prey
Nightmares haunt you
Through the night
And even the next day
You wake up
Hot, sweaty and wondering
If the nightmare was real
Your hands shake
Yor bones ache
And pain is all you feel
Copyright © Chyrelle Woods | Year Posted 2005
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