another
eerie, quiet, night
good
thing I still have on the light
bad
images my brain was fed
where
any sound could wake the dead
I
was shivering but not cold
I
thought I felt the hand of Death
the
shadows were becoming bold
where
any sound could wake the dead
smelt
his decaying rotten breath
the
only safe place was my bed
the
air was rancid, nothing fresh
where
any sound could wake the dead
another
eerie, quiet, night
where
any sound could wake the dead
Kyrielle
Sonnet
Copyright
© 2014 by Patrick B Vince
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