By Articuna16

Another day has passed and
time has fallen into a slower
motion.
For the time has come to lay
upon my pillow, to close my
eyes and rest in peace
forgotten in the dust of eve.

Even though the light has
closed the flickering lights
inside my mind cannot be
shut.
Open in my eyes the memories
of war dance around in
taunting smiles.

The laughter of the dead beat
upon my soul.
Unforgiving without a beat in
miss but loud and clear in
vibrant hushes.

Sleep is rushed without the
wisp of peace but hurried
by the sounds of dark-the ones
who taunt and smile-who stay
behind my mind in lurking
whispers.

The nightmares sent are
poured in battles long fought
so far in time.
But I touch them quite so
easily, I shiver at their real,
I cower in my bravery,
and I hate-I hate myself in fear.

I awake in hotness still
pale in face, the laughter
ringing of the wild card's
words that were only to be
known by me-the killer with
a conscience.

The words I awake within the
late of moon and I turn around
to touch my face in reflex.

Nothing but a ghost
to the bitter effect of still
deep in dreaming.

Pulling covers on, pulling
their hands of blood brought
on, I rest as in a grave prepared
in honor.

And the eye of night,
still open,
will watch what I have gave
to fight.