I just woke up in the middle of the night
With tremors of a nightmare I can't shake off.
I lived in a western town before technology and before I existed.
I met an indian woman with the gift of sight.
This dream kept me up for the rest of the night.

She had a vision of the grim reaper, which was me.
She said she saw my ashes in the doorway.
She was repulsed by my touch.
Is this truly my destiny?  
Terrified, I think she could really see.

I lay naked and bared my soul.
He laughed, because he couldn't help it.
I cried because it damaged me to the point of weeping.
Is this what love is supposed to be?
I cried and cried because he wouldn't see.

I know my errors and mistakes, I've made.
I know that God is reaching out to me.
I know this poem is repetitive and drone.
But, sometimes when I write, I'm not alone.
And when your past never ends, you turn to stone.