I can hear Black Death whispering my name.
I get up and the shut windows, lock the door.
Yet, the hoarse whisper still harkens the same.
Was it my imagination, as my feet hit the floor?

I am naturally frightened and hesitant.
Silently debating if I'm actually dreaming.
I am stock-still and lock-jawed reticent.
As my mind is zealously screaming.

Surely, my head is resting on my pillow.
Yet, I'm unsure if my eyes are wide open or shut....