I wrote this.

The days distress 
is calling fast,
to swoon in covers,
to let hours pass
but leave one eye open,
lest you forget,
nightmares too,
may come to bed.

Whether wake or slumber,
they do take part,
a visceral clutch,
and will shred your heart,
and leave a feeling,
it stings like remorse,
and winded though,
you raced a horse.