The Awaking Poem by imogen brand

' One is dead, but not forgotten.
A name lived on when the body is rotten'

This is the rhyme that has been whirling
In my head. Night after night.
As I toss and turn in my bed.

As I toss my head
I feel the movement of
The undead opera
Under my feet

As the black harvest moon arises
The tossing and turning get worse.

I sense the hot breath on the back of my neck
Faster, faster they run

I feel blood dripping in the corner of my mouth


Please who ever you are
Unlift these eyelids

I do not want to feel the
Blood any more

I do not want to feel your rath
Any longer...