Death Tolls- - Amen. Poem by Michael Gale

Tap, tap.tap, of the keys, this night...
Bringing birth, to dreams, one-fright.

Alas, those dreams, chilled to spine...
Standing hairs straight up hilly, whine.

Beyond the terror, of half strummed-beats...
Instilled to chair's, brown, stained-seats.

The train of death, hath, run it's track...
Beyond the grave's own, heart-attack.

Perspiration off one's, forehead's-brow...
Comes to me, as in the unnatural how?

Dark clouds, descend upon mine, dreamer's spin...
Death tolls, spill over thy, mortals win.

Inescapable slumber...
Of curtain's last, unknown, number.

Fiery skulls float menacing, over head, in sky....
At last, at last-I'll sweet slumber, then, thankfullly-lie.

Then, I'll die-then wilt, die.