Nightmare

29 1 5
                                    

Sometimes I dwell in the past;

remembering every word you uttered,

every act you executed,

and every syllable and gesture

left for none but the wind to drift away with.

Sometimes, I compare the phases I've lived through;

how, as day rose and fell,

true happiness was never an acquaintance;

how, as night drew,

I curled into a ball of nakedness--

tears, blood, and the remnants of what little dinner I had,

mingled with the scalding shower overhead.

How I grew accustom to the sound of only my voice

in the darkness of night, comforting me with illusions.

Convincing myself I knew no such thing

as violation and loneliness.

That I wasn't insane.

And you have the nerve,

the nerve,

to tell me you understand--

that you know me.

When the truth is,                                                                    you don't.

And it is you, who has instilled this amplified notion

of pure hatred, in which I stew in;

it is you, who has destroyed what little confidence

I had, and tore apart my dreams--

my passions.

And I realise now, you never really could fix me--

never really were able to solve all my anxieties,

even, if at the time I believed you could. 

No. You added fuel to the fire, which consumed me;

spitting words of discouragement and nastiness--

trapping me in your little bubble of negativity. 

You refused to let me grow.

And I realise now, 

you only made things worse,

for you are a lingering nightmare.


Copyright © 2015 Caasie Cabral-Pereira

All rights reserved.

RamblingsWhere stories live. Discover now