The Other Side Of Sleep

Poem By kevin hartley

Blackness shows it's wanting hands,
slowly enveloping like drifting sands.
A gasp for breath, a race not won,
a never-ending path just like the sun.
The lows are dark the highs are bright,
I feel him come in cold of night.
Evil whispers and pledge of peace,
he calls my name my life to fleece.
His tales to fix a heart of pain,
a promise of hope but soul to wane.
Not on his terms will he get his need,
In the end he'll get it,
he knows I bleed.

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