My Nightmare

My Nightmare
Brittney Schmelter

Bone-jarring shrieks stagger the night.
Bloody hands and rusted knives.
Scarred soul with hate in-threaded,
Through the night he's stealing lives.

Death-filled whispers of insanity,
In the ears of innocent children.
Chuckles escaping a dry mouth,
The calling of those who cannot win.

Scraping across the eerie floor.
Wide-eyed terror; hands uplifted.
Sense gracefully leaves the room.
Blank eyes - cold hands - body rigid.

Ascending out of lifeless room,
Gasping at life, corpse is shaking.
Dropping the knife; sight unsteady,
Our corrupt master is now awaking.

Body invaded with foreign sense,
Drowning in the waves of ecstasy.
Giggling silently he tiptoes on.
Not a single thought of mercy.

Dancing with his chaotic fantasies,
He marches on through his parade.
He only stops at a quiet house.
The party goes on as rain cascades.

The saddest thing of this story is...
I can only call it: A dream that's there.
Reality and Fantasy are now one.
Though I wish it was just My Nightmare.

Copyright Brittney Follett