Beneath the Pillow

Confusion reigns, a muddled mess But I see through it, non the less. My eyes are clear, amid disarray I see the path, I know the way. But fear seems to hold the key, It has made a prisoner out of me. You invite them in, you take their money Telling them, "go taste the honey." My stifled scream, "not again" Drunken breath, fumbling pain. You think you own me, and my life But beneath my pillow, hides a knife. One way or another, I'll be free For the knife is meant for you... or me. Poems that paint a picture - Poetry Contest Sponsored by Silent One 7/9/2017