Saturday, March 31, 2012

Messed, My head is

I awake to sterile white halls
The blurred vision of a document in my hands
With the echo of a gasp, the whisper of distraught
Feeling the outline of your name
My mouth turns salty and dry, as
With a waft of dry blood,
Cringing up my nose

It cannot be what I fear most...
Thank the lord, it was only a nightmare.

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