Fears Dispersed On Final Dawn

The shadows cast by the chair stand still,
But in them something darker it seems,
Can’t sleep either and paces the black.
Folding like a cloth it moves until,
Each depthed fabric has stretched out its seams,
Though it could spring out, it’s holding back.
Watch with rapid breaths and lie in chill,
Hope you have slipped into a dream,
Fear burrows deep in mental attack.
But with the dawn’s sun it is distilled,
Yellowed gaseous light making it clean,
Finally, it is dead – not one mark.

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