POEm

Night Mare stamps her foot in passion

Breaking light into fractions

Thus destroying the end of day

and building a place where she can play.

Hers is never a harmless course

the endless race you won’t endorse

she’ll buck you off into the dirt

and trample through deep, private hurts.

Now climb down from your Night Mare ride

twist and turn in effort to hide

as you wait for echoes to fade

that the fearsome hooves of Night Mare made.

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