The ceiling fan makes a comforting noise
As it whirs gently, with the premonition
That winter is near
She sits up hesitantly, somewhat afraid
That there might be something there
She just woke up from one of those nightmares
She could barely control her breathing
Fear and anxiety painted in her eyes
She's almost used to it, or so she thinks,
Till it happens again
She begins to shake just a bit
Almost subtly
She doesn't want- need- to think
Any more
She switches on another one of those gizmos
Whiles her night away
So she doesn't have to sleep
She doesn't need to go back
To those **** nightmares
A chill runs down her spine
But she turns up the music a little louder
She doesn't dare to cry
Scared of being heard,
Scared of acknowledging
That which lies silent, looming ahead
In the darkness
She doesn't want to because
Once she does, it would be tougher
To tell herself that they
Hardly matter
That they are not premonitions
Of the future
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 10:25 AM UTC
The ceiling fan makes a comforting noise
As it whirs gently, with the premonition
That winter is near
She sits up hesitantly, somewhat afraid
That there might be something there
She just woke up from one of those nightmares
She could barely control her breathing
Fear and anxiety painted in her eyes
She's almost used to it, or so she thinks,
Till it happens again
She begins to shake just a bit
Almost subtly
She doesn't want- need- to think
Any more
She switches on another one of those gizmos
Whiles her night away
So she doesn't have to sleep
She doesn't need to go back
To those **** nightmares
A chill runs down her spine
But she turns up the music a little louder
She doesn't dare to cry
Scared of being heard,
Scared of acknowledging
That which lies silent, looming ahead
In the darkness
She doesn't want to because
Once she does, it would be tougher
To tell herself that they
Hardly matter
That they are not premonitions
Of the future
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