Scars And Stories, The Nightmare Poem by alan brown

THE STORY

The dream was nearly over now
I could feel the endings near
As I lay alone on this cold night
at the ending of the year.

The windows white with frosty swirls
and the moon so full and clear
Lit up my room with beams of light
and rid my mind of fear.

Enchanted by the song I heard
I opened up my eyes
To find the bedroom roof had gone
As I looked up to the sky's.

Was this dream still lingering on
or had my mind regressed
As a shooting star shot across the sky
A wounder to be blessed.

It was then I saw the stranger
so white as if a flame
Came gliding thou the window
and never broke the pane.

He hovered at my bed end
with a smile upon his face
Looking so white and surreal
But never out of place.

His voice it was melodic
his action as in a dream
As he stretch his hands out to me
and held me to his esteem.

Then in a moment I was floating
high above the floor
As he took me to the heavens
a dream I wanted more.

SCARS

His action was so peaceful
and my mind had settled in
But the blade he held within his grasp
would free me of my sin.

His blade cut deep and bled me
of all my worldly woes
And left me scared forever
as he finely let me go.

It was then that my dream ended
as I shook in mortal fear
As I looked up at my bedroom ceiling
a sight I held so dear