Sunday, February 26, 2023

Ghostly Grip: A Poem of Sleep Paralysis




A ghostly hand grips tight my chest

As shadows dance in midnight's crest

My mind awakens, but my body's dead

Paralyzed, I cannot lift my head


Whispers echo, taunting me

With spectral forms I cannot see

A nightmare world, a waking dream

A place where nothing's as it seems


The air grows thick, the room grows cold

As demons cackle, cruel and bold

Their icy fingers trace my skin

As I lie captive, lost within


And though I try to break their hold

My limbs are heavy, numb and cold

I cannot move, I cannot scream

Trapped in a nightmare's icy seam


But as the night begins to fade

The grip of terror starts to fade

And with the dawn, my body's freed

From this cursed sleep paralysis breed.

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