She is reached in sleep by turning rooms
Falling nightstands and glowing mushrooms.
Lamps flicker and pillows strangle
The arms she is in entangle
Here in a grasp she cannot place
As it tilts, morphs in her head space
Into the strangle of vines
And with her intertwines
Till it crushes and clenches.
She awakes, to floor wrenches
And heaves onto the carpet
Dry air and tears are met.
Shaking and trembling she crawls
Back into bed to, she bawls
Silently feeling unseen, unheard
From day to day just ushered.
Her thoughts rear, fester and form
Till she finds nothing left to mourn.
About the Creator
Laura Lann
I harbor a deep passion for horror and fantasy, often heavily mixed together. After a tumultuous childhood, I find myself often writing about family dynamics as well. In my spare time, I can be found drawing or painting.
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