It calls to me at night,
The beast shrouded in darkness.
Silent calls echoing in my mind,
Reverberate through my heart
And pierce my soul.
Each night he lays,
At the foot of my bed,
Waiting until my thoughts drift.
Only then will he pounce,
Tearing ideas, limb from limb
Allowing only tattered dreams.
Then in the morning, he sleeps.
Content in his role, fulfilled
Leaving me only with fragments.
Scorched cinders of denial.
Crushed bastions of brilliance,
Fallen around my feet.