Kills

It comes to her like something out of Hell:
Anxiety. This beast beside the bed.
Its mouths emit a never-ending yell;
its poison seeps inside her pounding head.

All truth is twisted. Gold is turned to grey,
to match its shade, the tarnished, tinged with blood,
her blood. It likes to drain her, every day.
All that she is, lies trampled in the mud.
​
There has to be a remedy for this,
a reason found, a diagnosis, pills,
the monster slain, a prince’s waking kiss,
before it strikes – the last attack that kills.

- - -
Published in The Ekphrastic Review, 25th November 2023
After William Blake, The Great Red Dragon