• 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. – – –

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