The Nightmares Were Real
It's a all so blurry, so confusing,
my tired feet,
kept running at a speed,
ignored are torn knees,
fleshy and gaping.
I feel a clamp around my lungs.
I gasp and wheeze,
no air to breathe,
I wanna scream
for there's a cement nail
sticking out my throat.
I see eyes, twinkling as they smirk,
through dank darkness,
the unforeseeable emptiness,
in complete nothingness,
Kidnapped and tortured, yet I'm not missed,
that's just ...
my luck.
This filthy body has no more dirt to collect,
for the filth thrust unto it.
The filth was pumped into it,
and at it's end, the body is worth less,
that shit,
itself.
Through the haze of fog and smoke,
the body decorated by scars,
a girl of age seven,
being pounded like a porn star
and beaten like a whore.
With vacant eyes, she lies on the floor,
like a porcelain doll,
her consciousness falls,
blocking it all,
men after men, she has before her.
With an unfocused sight, thus I wake,
In the mirror, the scars and burns are healed.
My hysteria might seem fake,
but what if I told you,
for many nights and years,
those nightmares were all too real.
YOU ARE READING
Beautifully Dark Words
Poetry------------------------ Beautifully Dark Words--------------------- This is Collection of Dark and not-so Dark Poetry. They touch each and every category though they might be more a somber look unto life, you'll be able to feel the beauty from such...
