Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Tis her weeping that wakes her from sleeping. 
Distant nightmares, those that lie beyond her stare.
Shattered are these, wilting memories. 
Whispers of terror become her horror. 

Thus behind iron chains, her soul binds.
Aching for peace, a moment of sweet release. 
Delicate as a ruby red rose, tis her pose. 
Where time becomes frozen, the sun no longer shines. 

Her tears flowing, as sorrow becomes ever growing. 
Like ancient river flowing, distant raven crowing. 
As nightmares turn to reality. 
Hell becomes her specialty.



© 2017 Dell Anne Raye