Whos Night

Who,s Night ? It is, night ! dark as pitch black; I am, swimming in night sweat; towards an unreachable morning shore. Whispering pillows bring hours of fear; and a cage of scrabbling arms reaching, grip my runaway thumping heart beats; fleeing me, left prone alone shaking: Yet still my flickering shut eyes see through strangely, the bizarreness of its veiled cloak; it hides all. Night is elusive, in its wraps, its bitter taste; and is always conquered by morning light: If the dawn does not appear, i am lost, realising the heavy lid is screwed down.