Après le Cauchemar

Graceful morning, that breach from
dreamscape and confirmation of
avoiding that eternal brink für noch
eine Nacht.  Those cracks through
which only light could shine, I crept
down on my hands and knees under
that doorway to see.  I could feel
my parents fighting, from whence
I came, but I knew not the shades
of torment I had seen.  Those whispy
ghouls still elude me, in the straits
of waking day, their forms all mist,
their eyes gems of caprice and lust.
How I saught through my memories,
to see ghouls I had dreamt, I only
imagined, a Past fit for this place.


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