Those Puppet Strings
With tight Puppet Strings, it controls me,
It's iron fists strangle all breath from my lungs
Its ink black tendrils cover my heart and envelope my mind.
There is no escape.
I drown with no water about,
My tears come in rivers that stream down my face
and my screams, there in no more horrible a sound.
My heart bears the pain of a thousand knives
and my body, not controlled by my mind, convulses
Oh! This never ending labyrinth of emotion,
This tidal wave of sadness.
The darkness overtakes me
and when I wake,
I feel the cold shackles of exhaustion, pinning me to my bed.
My breath becomes shallower,
and my lids grow more heavy
And I live with the knowlege-
That it WILL happen Again.
Jason Bayliss
Sat 21st Sep 2019 09:56
The dread of falling asleep as if dipping beneath the surface of the ocean. When I was young I used to have this recurring, lucid nightmare and this is how I felt about sleep. Eventually, at quite a young age I had to remind myself that my mind belongs to me and that I am master of my dreams, although it took a while, until then I used to dread sleep. Really well written.
J. x