Cadaver’s Dream

The night is young
The day is old

Wishing for a sign
Chills in my soul

Partially awake
Yet mentally sleep

Sweat drips down
Ice cold feet

Can’t hear any sounds
Yet within screams

Looking in the mirror
Reflection can’t be seen

Breathing hard
But gasping for air

Reaching for it
But it is not there

Beating heart
So shattered and weak

Pumping a fluid
That rejuvenates me

Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust

So close to death
I can feel her touch

Monica Renata 
My Book: 
The Awkward Butterfly: