The dread that comes with the night,
Proud, persistent, wanting in pity for my plight.
He draws my tears,
Wracks my frame with my horrors and fears
He casts my eyes to time past
From the beginning to the sin I made last
On those nights the birds are awake before I sleep
But not before my guilt cuts sharp and deep
The cuts smart as the surface flesh slowly part
And beneath the blood makes its own charts
Peace is far...
But she will be here to tend the scars...
I know that as the skin splits like the Red sea
From it will arise another monstrosity
My greatest fear is my only reliance,
Where is faith in the distance?
Tomorrow I will awaken by noon
Then I can say peace will be here soon.
For now I toss and turn beneath my quilt
Considering maybe I will find innocence in acknowledging guilt.
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Comments about this poem (Insomnia by Oke Christopher )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(18 November 1939)
Edgar Albert Guest
(20 August 1881 - 5 August 1959)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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