The night shift is dangerous.
settled between the hours of waking
and the silence of the dead,
it's where demons invade your thoughts
and start pouring from your head.
The night shift is violent.
It reaches out through your arms,
spreading down your fingertips,
taking your body and making you do things
that you promised yourself
- a fragile, broken promise -
you would never do again.
The night shift is when your fears come to life,
loud and terrifying, bucking at the silence.
The night shift holds you hostage,
it holds a gun to your head
and you're left hoping and praying,
and dreaming, and screaming
out into the dead quiet
begging for the day shift to come again.
YOU ARE READING
The Listening
PoetryA collection of half-way poetry, full of words better left unsaid.
