Night Terror
Tick, tock, tick, tock
Round and round
Like a clock
Static on a countdown
Anxiety, anticipation
Until three… two… one
Pure white
Maybe, this time –
But the disease forever comes
Gray, black, crawling
Devouring
White roses in black thorns
Death
Shivers, blink
Eyes slowly open
But the room is alive
Silently writhing
With the disease
A scream in my throat
Arrives
But paralysis cages all
The disease brings
Death
This poem is about:
Me