Horror Show

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A poem written in between psychosis and depression.

 

Horror Show

 

Dreams of dreams, so quiet they seem

Of horror shows and evil they’ve been

So quiet at night, praying for dawn

With tearful eyes comes secrets I’ve sworn –

Not to release the preying of beast

Who devours his victims, a sinister feast.

At night they come for me, alone

Through flesh and blood comes skin and bone

So raw is their skin and darkness within –

That sight, it makes me tremble

To wonder about my mind is harmful

Enough to pray they wont assemble.

Though to pray and hope is never enough

Needing thickened skin to make me tough –

It’s never enough, this acting so much

In the hope I’ll be just fine, and

My skin is scared, so cold to touch

And my mind seems never more mine, alas –

I’m no longer mine or safe from harm

The storms within shall never more calm –

It makes things seem so dreadful.

With stepping stones built through my mind

I dance alone, alone and careful.

Now morning comes with rising skies

The beast is never more

As I wait alone for the sun to rise

My eyes a raw, so red and sore

While dreams and beast –

For now they cease, giving me peace

I wait in vain, a lonesome find –

For the next in line, the blackened kind.


Submitted: April 26, 2012

© Copyright 2022 uylerianvex. All rights reserved.

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