Sleep

Stale sheets crackle as I turn
Ignore the flaking skin
It holds no charm for me

The bed is old, creaks with every shake
A relic of the simple days
Just a mattress on top of boards

Dreaming makes me weak now
I see so little that’s good
I wish that they were nightmares

Nightmares can be dismissed
The outrageous products of fear
But in these dreams, I am not scared

I see a path, burned through a smoldering wood
On each sides stand ash statues of people I’ve loved
Though I no longer recognize them

Blackened faces all seem the same
Like charcoal in a sputtering fire
All radiating different heat

Some may burn me if I look too long
Others may beg for me to remember them
Most say nothing and gaze back with cold hate

I am not scared when I see this forest
I have lived here for years
Surrounded by the guilt and shame

No sparks alight anymore
Petrification has set in
The ash creeps up my arms