melissaahowells
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the photo on the bedroom wall insinuates distress three siblings staring forward each with separate faces while a hollow house with eyeless windows glares sullenly I search for some clue of myself and find that little here remains I make a thousand wishes rocks skimming across a shallow stream of thoughts I wish we'd known each other better I wish we were made of more enduring stuff some people are not meant to last or even to be themselves so how do you teach a child to trust when there's nothing to hold onto how do you teach a child it can be alright in dreams my childhood house has collapsed in on itself while roaring flames have consumed it from underneath Hell surely had come to claim us and carry us back down into the earth on an rickety boat straight to the river of forgetfulness the Past intrudes when you least expect It It doesn't knock It lets itself in and tries to lock the door from behind some children have nightmares some adults seem all grown up on the outside but are small little people cowering from far and wide and deep deep beneath you can only see them when you really look and who really has time or the patience or the insight to see them? Legal copyright for this poem/catharsis 1:53PM PST time/date stamped and also for this poet/writer Melissa A. Howells and also for this legally copyrighted site title Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World. Vote for this poem |
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