My sleep is plagued by 

One repeating dream.

It has creeped into my life,

Into my very being.

It stalks me in the graveyard.

With little place to

Run. I hide.

For what will happen

If it finds me?

I saw it once patrolling

Through the marshes of

My head.

It's tall, and thin, and tired.

Its skin is grayer than

The fires ash.

It looks so tired…

I wonder why I'm scared

Of it, or why it hunts me 

In life, in dreams, in 

Every moment?

Perhaps it too is plagued

By nights of endless chase.

Perhaps it too does not

Want us to meet.

My eyes fly open.

It is morning,

But where is it?

I brush my teeth,

And start my day.

I look up to finally see.

The Graveyard Freak

In the mirror watching me.

I look so tired…

12/23/2024