What are they like,
your personal demons,
that haunt the sleepless
hours of the night?
Those hours without
a flicker of light, no moon
no stars, silent and cold,
a black and fathomless void.
Do they chase you, do they
lurk in the shadows, hiding
from reason, cold fingers of
mortal terror, gripping your soul?
Are they ghosts of the present,
bills unpaid, deadlines missed,
or specters from the past, lingering
regrets from deeds left undone?
What do you do, to make it through
that empty hour, when sleep brings
nightmares, and waking leaves only
to toss and turn, without rest?
© 2016 DM Shepherd