29 September 2014

He's not the Sandman

nightly routine Death kisses my forehead
installing the dreams I'll have in my head
personally gives me my nightly dreams
each individualized with a theme
patiently waits for me to go to bed

nightmares so real I felt my flesh get shred
looked at my hands, covered, sticky and red
breathing slow, I said, nothings what it seems
Death kisses my forehead

wind muffled voices, can't hear what it said
need to be sure don't want to be mislead
then one night it went well beyond extreme
I woke up to the sound of my own scream
everything was black, I couldn't be dead
Death kisses my forehead 

Rondeau Poem
Copyright © 2014 by Patrick B Vince

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