InsomniaA Poem by Sarah Conder3am
visitations from the Devil Churning
the darkness into obscurity. The
sheets become a funeral shroud, coarse and uninviting. The
alarm clock’s pulsating digits, Are a
mockery of Time’s unerring advancement. The
Night is deceptive. Open the
window; let the outside pour in, For it
is suffocating inside; Stifling,
hallucinogenic. Fever
dreams dance tauntingly, Masters
of mime and puppetry. The
Demons of the night time are the Insomniac’s
greatest foe. © 2013 Sarah ConderFeatured Review
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StatsAuthorSarah ConderUnited KingdomAboutHello there lovelies, my name is Sarah, I am eighteen and am a student of English Literature and Drama. I am very fond of reading, especially 19th-20th Century fiction, the works of Shakespeare and th.. more..Writing
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