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Posted October 15, 1999 by Tim Wells in Poetry
 
 

Ghosts – A Poem


He came to me again last night, this time in my dreams
I saw him beat my mother and heard her frightened screams
But when he broke her finger, I couldn’t take it anymore
I forced his anger upon myself and he threw me to the floor
I saw the rage in his eyes as he lifted me by my hair
He swore at me then tossed me, like a rag doll, through the air
As I hit the wall and fell to the ground, tears sprang to my eyes
He yelled at me to shut my mouth and warned me not to cry
I couldn’t stop the whimper, he turned and stormed across the floor
Terrified and in pain, I stumbled towards the door
He followed, I called for help but no one was around
Finally, realizing this was a dream, I turned and stood my ground
Surprise showed upon his face but he continued his attack
My blood boiled, I broke his finger, smiling at the crack
He fell to his knees and in his eyes, fear began to swell
I turned and walked away, refusing to be held prisoner in his hell
I awoke from the nightmare and there in the dark I swore
That he would never hurt me again, I’d be helpless no more

~ TW ~
10/15/99


Tim Wells

 
Dad, husband, gamer, blogger, geek. Not necessarily in that order.