Fragile is my memory,
Yielding visions that have haunted me.
Taking me back to a long ago place,
Welling up feelings of anger and disgrace.
My tormentor standing nude over a long narrow bed,
Me cowering in the corner full of fear and dread.
Memory, oh memory please make that time obtuse!
I keep yelling it over and over.., but alas it's no use.
by Donna Evans 8-7-2012
There are No Monsters Under the Bed
ReplyDeleteBeyond vague memories of darkness
Of barrier’s built out of blankets
I hear the voice, monotone
I feel the monsters hands
Why can’t I scream, why don’t I scream?
Why can’t I just wake up?
Because I am not asleep… and it was not a dream
It was a nightmare…that still haunts me.
snw912minded, there are more on my blog it is: strayleaf01.blogspot.com........I recommend "SICKO" I wrote it from the point of the mother that would have protected her child (which did not happen in my case). Great poem by the way. I hope it was freeing for you, as mine are for me!
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