Bad Dreams Poem by Ardimus Caldwell

Not making since of what's going through
Not waking up the same
More swet rolling down the face
Feel growing as if I'm a child
Cloeing my eye's with thoughts that kills the soul
Getting even worse
Becoming worser than the dreams I thought that couldn't get worse
My head going different ways on the pillow that earsed my thoughts
Getting me ready for the next morning
Twisting and turning in the sheets that once protected me from harm
Then I awaken from this bad dream