Monsters

It slithers within
underneath barren
visions — nightmares,
flashes of corpses
dangling from time’s
web. Echoes envelope
life’s kaleidoscope
still I grasp onto hope
begging death’s labyrinth
to release me.
Until then, I rest behind
one barbed wire window,
a door shut tightly.
May the monsters come?

© 2023 Rena Aliston. All rights reserved.