Poem
The room is still.
The shadows grow.
A sudden chill
Begins to blow.
The eyelids drop,
The pulse beats fast.
The thoughts won’t stop
From shadows past.
A heavy weight
Upon the chest.
A sealed-up gate
Denies the rest.
The phantoms crowd
Around the bed.
They whisper loud
Inside the head.
The ledger stays
Unpaid, unclean.
The darkest days
Replay unseen.
To close the eye
Is facing hell.
No lullaby
Can break the spell.
The morning light
Is worlds away.
The sinner fights
To keep the grey.









