The Nightmare
In darkened hours, all through the night,
In restless sleep, I will alight.
When limbs are weakened, warm and ripe,
Softly you fall, at my sure swipe.
I ply my trade by pale moon light,
Upon the edges of your sight,
Unheard, your screams, my muted might!
Blind, deaf and dumb, you dare not gripe,
In darkened hours.
But should you dare, put up a fight,
Your fists fall empty at my flight.
You cannot catch my spiteful pipe,
Nor fathom how you ate my tripe!
Your misery is my delight,
In darkened hours.
Copyright © Michael Dom | Year Posted 2014
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