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.
Copyright © Sherry Asbury | Year Posted 2018
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