A fever rages through my brain
and has me howling at the moon
a strange mysterious malady.
The soothing rage
the cooling fire
the healing pain
the healthy wound
the fog that lets me see so clear.
What struck me so?
When was I struck?
When were my senses so confused?
And yet, I see so very clear
what before was foggy in my mind.
Like a blinding flash, illuminating
that which I should have seen before,
might have seen before,
had I not been blind in a different way.
But as the blindness from the flash
recedes and I begin to see,
a clearness floods all over me
and in the center I do see
you.
A fever rages through my brain
and leaves me howling at the moon
a strange, mysterious malady.
YOU ARE READING
mid night poetry( part 1)
PoetryAbout mid night poetry :collection of dark poems that I use to write or have written at night ! "I'm different. I will give you my treasure chest of darkness first. If you can handle that, then I'l...
