Running.

0 Comments

Tags:
  • Confusion

    Running.

    I keep running;
    through a golden field,
    bare with the exception of some sorry trees.
    Behind me are men, huge men,
    with big guns too.
    I keep running;
    feeling tired, exhausted.
    I want to stop, 
    I can't stop.
    I keep running.
    A woman and her child appear
    in the corner of my eye,
    they get shot down.
    I keep running;
    running for my life.
    It feels like I've been running forever,
    I suddenly see a fence.
    I climb the fence and see a tent,
    a huge tent with many layers.
    I climb inside,
    I catch my breath.
    The smaller man crawls in,
    lost within the many layers.
    I prepare myself and lunge,
    stabbing the only two pens I am armed with
    into the areas where he sees.
    My force startles me,
    I hear bones crunching
    and a thud as the man goes down.
    I pull the pens out, 
    waiting for the bigger man.
    He comes,
    I charge,
    stabbing fruitlessly at his stomach;
    his muscles keep me out.
    Stunned, I lose my thought,
    the man pushes me down to the ground.
    I quickly jump up,
    stabbing a pen into his right eye.
    He yelps and whines,
    asking me why I did so
    but otherwise he is still up.
    Still in shock, I run out
    only to be blocked by a tall cement wall.
    He is coming
    closer, 
    closer, 
    closer.
    Nowhere to go,
    fear floods into me,
    deep into my bones,
    into the gut of my stomach,
    a sour feeling of unease in my heart.
    I awake with a staggering jerk,
    I don't know where I am.
    Bright colors on my walls,
    I realize it was just a dream,
    A nightmare.

    Poem Comments

    (0)

    Please login or register

    You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
    leave comments/feedback and rate this poem.

    Login or Register

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    faycfh25’s Poems (2)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Running. 0
    You Will Never Know 1