Something is coming.
Not so far away,
closer now,
than yesterday.

Waiting for the scratching,
or the rattled glass.
Keep praying for my guides.
They  stand fast.
A thought puts Them with me.

but It senses my doubt,
my fears.
Then, from the cold,
It will arrive,
in Guise often new.
But with fears that are old.

Vague, dreadful.
Indistinct, threatening.
I know how to keep them out.
So far, learnt well.
But I need my side,
all those beyond compare.
Help battle my hell.

Tonight I sleep with lights ,
If I sleep at all,
pray the pills kick in and,
tomorrow, I will stand tall.
For a little while.

Something is coming.