Something woke me the other night
although I cannot pinpoint what.
I sat up, startled in sudden fright,
mustering the courage I thought I had not,
I observed dreadful sight:
a daunting doll dormant in a cot
with marks the shape of a bite
next to a wraith who's blood had clot
as though savaged in a fight;
I watched his innards and rigour rot.
From lack of breathing my lungs grew tight,
my heart pounding, adrenaline shot,
I turned on the light, so blindly bright,
but was what I saw just a nightmare's twisted plot
or realities demonstration to be contrite?
The mind can play tricks on our fears
and tells the conscience's truths when judgement is near.
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