doubtful past ...

Doubtful past

By james a. galgano

The hateful wind with dust thrown in bloodshot tearing eyes brought to their knees.

Unable to find their way through any darkened corridor screaming so to displease.

Often echoes of memories are found haunting each night left far behind

Under covers of unmade bed filled with dread scarring forever each innocent mind

Though day may break with its blinding heat and light clouds lurk aimlessly above

Filling each thought with tales of misbegotten woe a past we may not know of

These are the moments that turn into years then a lifetime from which to remind.

Like echoes of screams in the night of some parable written like letters in the sand

Awaiting the tide to rush in to define every awkward hope as if it were a demand.

Here is where we find ourselves each day some questionable category often unkind.

Beneath the hat we never wear unless within reflection of mirror's glance unwind