Letter to "Self":
Dear Self (aka Charlie): Hey old man! If you are NOT 100% mentally prepared, totally committed, and singularly focused on dealing with (and accepting) the pain, angst, and frustration associated with the 25 plus hours that is the Trans-Iowa...then you need stay home because there ain’t NO WAY that a guy can fake it through that race. So get your head right…
by J. Macvicar
Wordlessly pleading,
Silently howling,
Waiting for the nightmares to go with the night.
Tossing and turning,
Feverly burning,
Begins to realize that something’s not right.
Teeth and jaws,
Blood and claws,
Unearthly cries and screams.
Sleep is gone,
Something’s wrong,
Nightmares kill all his dreams.
Wide awake,
Starts to shake,
As the reality set itself in,
The nightmares are real,
Real enough to kill,
All because of a life of sin.
Sleep comes like the knife,
Which murdered his wife,
And commended him to a endless nightmare.
If the past could die,
The demons would fly,
But I doubt if the demons would dare.
For here in the pit,
On a throne doth sit,
The nightmare king kills all the hope.
So the sinner sleeps on,
The nightmare grows strong,
And the sinner, he’ll just have to cope...
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