Nightmare

The screams lead the dance uplifting the sad song And invading the gray space of their sad souls. The swiftest movements try to keep them so strong. Together are they, with ill minds and high goals. They try to enlighten their incantation. They wither only their sinner soul within. They reach their nightmare; search for their elation, Their blood is shed for no remission of sin. Some of them dance screaming their name. Those names are bell clappers in empty beings. They turn their sigh into hope and frozen shame, They dance their putrescent flesh for innate wings. Some others are like pale roses in winter, They shake their putrescent fragrance in dreamless. They are like mad souls, they flutter their glitter Like hell and turn all they are against God bless. Poem by Marieta Maglas