“Who are thee?” whisper I
To the darkness of night,
Yet only cold silence replies.
And fear’s icy grip stills the pounding of my heart;
A nighmare, but another world to start.
Yet this is reality, it seems to be,
Keeping the secret sense of time,
And cries all around pry unto me,
Footsteaps fall fierce upon the ground;
Alert, alone, fearing sound.
So softly creepth I, open fields await,
I see them in my panic, crawling blind,
And I hope for hope, and I long to awake,
Unfurling the clouds of sleep from my eyes;
Yet I do not awake, and I feel them growing close,
I fear them growing close;
Shall they not see me now?