(1781 painting by Johann Henry Fuseli)
I dreamed I entered dreariest of Hell.
Pressed to my breast is something made of stone.
I shiver at the saddest eyes yet known;
her cold, black pupils make me feel alone.
No hand of comfort had she for my quest.
Emboldened silence turns away all hope
of asking anyone for help so dear
and so I floated in this monstrous shell.
The hand still grips me with a hatred’s hold.
My panic does foreshadow all is lost.
It’s then I enter cemetery, tossed
and naked, with no cover for my soul.
I break and shake the might of hell away;
I thrash and bash this demon in my sight.
With one swift kick, I throw my covers off;
the monster killed as I turn on the light.
(Day 27, April PAD, Writer’s Digest. Prompt: write a monster poem