Sick Shape
Shapes in my dreams
They follow where I go
I come apart at the seams
Running and screaming, “no”
No place to hide
Sweat stuck to my sheets
A bad carnival ride
And demons to meet
Pain comes like a knife so sharp
Piercing through with dread
Waiting for angelic harps
Before I wake up dead
My life a nightmare, no escape
Don’t let this sickness be my fate.
Copyright © Andrea Travis | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment