The nightmares never seems to end,
I wake with sweat and shaking hands,
The weights on my chest are always there.
This time it was her holding a knife,
This time it wasn't me she was coming for,
It was my child,
The one I don't have in real life,
She was coming at me screaming her name,
I could feel the pain course through me,
All the faces around me were blurry as if they were just props in a play,
And she was the puppeteer,
The mastermind behind it all.
That's when I wake,
Muffling a scream.
Making sure not to wake anyone,
I keep these to myself in hopes that they'll stop,
But they keep coming,
And coming,
Waiting in the shadows for me to fall to sleep,
To ease themselves inside my mind ,
Nothing can shake them,
But The nightmares let me know I'm human,
That I can indeed bleed.
They let me know what it's like to feel,
So I can't stop them now can I,
Or should I.
YOU ARE READING
the depths of my despair
PoesíaYin & Yang . The good ,The bad. A balance between the two. This is the dark finding it's light through the depths of despair.
