Eternal Sleep

She lives in an hallucination. Her battle exists been awakening and an anxiety-filled stupor. Her world a black hole, sucking inward with tentacles of spun molecules, winding and tightening around her arms and legs, promising eternal rest. Sleep an intoxicating remedy to her war-battled soul and she easily gives in to the promise. 

A desire for sleep

she lay bent and bruised

a reed that blew in the wind.

Could she know,

the grace in someone else’s face

blinded eyes by traffic-lights?

Every light is red to her, green and yellow mixing into melancholic dreams. Images not of her choosing but hooded reapers of death, who from a side glance, briefly glow a sinister smile, telling her he is happy she has arrived. She knows not. 

Poetry

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