Fiction/Poetry

Nightmare

He only did one thing well, creeping in
When the moon rose plump as a melon, ripe
With terrors shrieking in riotous din,
Visions provoking tears which none may wipe.
Tinkering about while she dreams, he oh
So slightly tweaks the tone of thoughtless sight
`Til sharpened forms so menacingly grow
Strangely ominous, threat’ns with silent might.
After the horrid show plays through, and she
Near’ wakens from screams, he tucks them away,
Instruments which played th’ ghastly melody
But must never be seen by light of day.
Altering dreamscape proves perilous, yet
Crossing to madness a riskier bet.

nightmare

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