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The Mare comes each night while I sleep in my bed. 
He sits on my chest, and there he will spread 
A streaming of thoughts I fixate on in wake, 
A vivid transcription of what lies at stake. 
 
The First is a lover, she's one from the past, 
Her drug-riddled body lies resting at last. 
A flurry of anguish flows through in a wave, 
As I sink by the person that I could not save. 
 
The Second's a mem'ry relived many times, 
I lie here aware I rejected the signs. 
If this is the end, if here I may die, 
Alone I will be, bring forth my demise. 
 
The Third's a reflection of me, this I see  
With eyes black as night giving one small, weak plea. 
The person all hates, the girl no one wants, 
That one silent monster whose loneliness daunts. 
 
The Fourth is the last and before I awake, 
I see in the shadows my greatest mistake. 
A boy who refuses to see how he hurts 
The people around him, and friends he deserts. 
 
The last is the worst, and I jump from my sleep, 
The sweats and the tremors will force Mare to leap. 
The weight's off my chest but the pain that remains 
Won't stop palpitating till sanity 'gains. 
 
The Mare does not leave, for he knows I'll provide 
The best of ordeals I suppress deep inside. 
Devouring monster, paralysis demon, 
He smiles and waits for the time when I'm beaten. 
 
I throw him the noose as it tempts me once more, 
I trick him with hay while I hope he ignores 
I'm falling apart, my life is the Mare's, 
I live in my dreams, and for night he prepares. 

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By Rhiannon Ford, 2019