Ghosts of the Night

1 Comments

Ghosts of the Night

Ghostly pale,
Stricken by floating identities
Pulled away from reality

Sprawled across the bloody floor
The deadly dagger in hand
Hopes of living, faded

Figures of light circle me
Whispering dreaded details
Vaguely explaining their presence

Neptunish eyes
A blinding flash
An echoing chill

Weakness encases me
Draining my sweet syrup
Emptying my crimson contents

Freedom awaits me
Greeted with open arms
Away from the nightmare

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Phoenix9 commented on Ghosts of the Night

02-17-2009

nice write

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

skye101’s Poems (2)

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My White Tiger 0
Ghosts of the Night 1