free-verse of a childhood and sleep problems
There's a ghost,
since my child-hood,
seen them floating
in my bed-room
when I was seven....
They never scared me,
but they just floated
in repetition,
and they had this
look of horrendous
of torturous.....
I don't believe
as I can't ever feel,
when the seeds
never grew to boil,
and weeds take the toll
and neglect is a toil,
You tried hard and never,
gave up on how its severed,
my knife to my heart
my own dreams ripped apart
The photographs
break me like a
dam that is overflowing,
I imagine not, the sickness
of this second sight
of my imagination,
seeing only
humiliation
and a burden
spared as a child.....
Not cast into the wild,
but couldn't stray
after my mother's
brutal beatings
and like a loving pup,
I still unconditionally....
Hell streaks of a shower curtain
bleeding,
and the alcohol and drugs worsen
a feeding
to my veins already
reddening.
I love you,
on the best days
like my birthday.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment