I haven't been sleeping
For the fear of dreaming
Of that woman so haunting.
The one in the nightgown.
Her insides as if about to fall out,
That sanguine fluid, her body it drowns.
She smells as if her flesh is burning,
She looks like everything in her is rotting,
She speaks like she is so badly hurting.
Towards me she is coming,
Looks me in the eye with longing,
And she says,
"Have you seen my child roaming?"
~♧~
YOU ARE READING
flares of these strange thoughts
PoetryStrange thoughts, thats one way to put it. A collection of some lines i came up with off the top of my convoluted head. To be frank, I'm not even sure if this is, as one would call it, poetry. The way all this came to be is, well, i think a lot. Abo...
