Sherry Asbury Poet Prose Poetry

Will Morning Never Come

Night hovers around me, 
touching with fingers of dread.
My empty heart is subjugated 
to the pain smothering me.
Eyes, I keep shut tight 
so that demons cannot be seen.
For if I see them they shall 
render me insane for all eternity.

Knowing they climb slowly 
down the wall toward my bed,
I stifle my screams and 
put my pillow over my frantic face.
Long tendrils of madness poke 
and enter while I breathe.
In shuddering contemplations, 
I pray to soon be in some better place.

Now the voices whisper 
of my vile iniquities and black sin.
They try to wind through me
and force my ears to hear.
With shaking fingers I fumble 
with the lid on a bottle of pills,
spilling them, watching them 
roll away as I battle the fear.

Will morning never come 
and release me from this prison?
Am I doomed to lie here until 
their ravenous appetite
feeds on my flesh, 
as they drink my blood in copper urns.
Unholy manifestations claw my mind, 
force me into fright.

Blessed dawn is creeping nearer, 
licking the blinds with
tiny tongues that edge their way 
into careless cracks and slits.
On tender feet I tiptoe 
to the window and let in blessed light
to vanquish my devils, 
to give comfort to my fevered fits. 
I wasn't invited, but would like to enter.

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Sand Blown November 22, 2018 at 12:07 PM sounds like mourning has already broken lol : )

Anne-Lise Andresen November 22, 2018 at 7:28 AM - A wonderful poem of emotions, Sherry ... love how you finish this - hugs // Anne-Lise :)

Caren Krutsinger November 22, 2018 at 7:20 AM You have described so well what many feel, but cannot express in a novel, yet, you have done it in one poem. Let me know when your book is finished, my friend.