Doors locked,
windows sealed,
misty shadows come
and go, confined to this
room, ghostly figures
shuffle about in the
gloom.
Rain cold, lighting piercing,
the insane wakes; is this
hell, idle mind waits while
time creeps by; tortured
visions sink into the breast,
a dream or is it death.
©2013.annjohnsonmurphree
EBooks on sale at Amazon.com:
http://www.amazon.com/Ann-Johnson-Murphree/e/B00CGBLQZO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1375763518&sr=8-2
ann johnson-murphree 
very true
LikeLike
Elegant and captivating. I believe, however, you intended “lightning” rather than “lightening” in the second stanza, third word. (Old editors never die; they just smell that way!) 🙂
Ron
LikeLike
Thank you, edited 🙂
LikeLike
its death .
LikeLike
Got goosebumps reading this.
LikeLike
Very nice! I really enjoyed this one.
LikeLike