At night when we do not sleep
And the faces outstay their welcome,
When horrors touch our dreams
And we tremble their language…
The occupation of our hearts in sleep-
O! The assassination of souls!
And this; our death stained dreams
Carried by gloom nearer to us
Will ever be in attendance
If we nourish them in our days.
© 2007 mrp/thepoetryman
