Had you entered my room
at a quarter till nine,
you have have found me painfully asleep,
with weeping and gnashing of teeth,
muffled by the pillow
my face was consumed within.

Nightmares
about dying from a broken heart
and living with a breaking one.
My father holding his collapsing chest,
and my Wish finally laid to rest.

The best of me seems to digress.
My jaw grinding,
grinding, grinding,
grinding unti the alarm sounds.
And as I lay minding the
terror-laden rest,
my heart starts beating out of my petrified chest.