Rumour my night
Send a rumour to the visions in my head,
tell them it is my blood that has been bled.
Let them scramble and for information delve,
find their corners to fetal position themselves.
The rumour tips and topples the lights and shades,
disorganizes the views lined disturb ably made.
They will beg and plead for help from the thoughts,
the visions fading, darkening, and blinding spots.
Send the rumour so my head can be cleared of light,
so it can finally get to sleep on this restless night.