Glance

One look
Stings
Like a suicide glance
I feel the crimson running
Soaking my shirt
Forming a sticky puddle
On the floor
I awake
Terrified
Knowing your face
Only from the dream
Striving to avoid
That look like a reaper
Void of any emotion
Shattering my protective walls
Like a high speed baseball
Flying towards a pane of weak glass
Afraid to sleep
Yet afraid to open my eyes
I'm left in the darkness
Where it all began