Pyrrhic Insomnia
1 min readFeb 16, 2018
The Mead Hall, slick with slaughter…
At three AM, all the warriors
save one sleep and evil moves,
like Grendel bearing God’s wrath,
slouching up in cruel darkness.
The doors of dreams stand ajar,
easing access for destruction,
portals open to easy targets.
The Monsters gather and creep.
No lone man can hope to stand
against the terrors of deep dark.
The dragons of doom are too many.
Against his will and better nature,
he must bend to the killers’ will.
He will fall, his body dragged
into the swirling vortex of death,
his life sucked into the fell night,
all remaining riddles unsolved.
Try as he must. Try as he might.
