Inky Nights


Late nights filled with feverish dreams
Still awake, and yet asleep
Too young to understand
Too old to not yet know
The clock ticked eerily
and the water dripped steadily
Dread bubbled up in her stomach
Froth in her mouth
Sour taste of things you shouldn't see

The unknown reality of the dreams
Is that they weren’t just dreams
Or nightmares
They were memories
Of days she did not long for
Of hours she was forced to forget

An endless night she could not escape

The air was black ink
She could not breath
She could not scream
She could not remember how

And she was so
tired.

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