I Hear Them Every Time

The mind loves to dream...don't let it go into detail too much.

Where on God's Earth do I live?

Every day, every night,

I hear the screams. 

They come straight from below,

into my window as I sit in my little home.

I can't even tell what kind they are!

I hear the screeching of children,

the whining of women!

What goes on at where I cannot see?!

Are they playing? Are they in need of help?

Are they being hurt? Are they dying?

I dare not step into the field of lions,

where their manes are the things of fear,

where their fangs sink into your fear.

The mind, it wonders,

wanders, pulling out scenes from the unknown,

giving them to my closed eyes,

my eyes that process and grab every image.

And they watch so fast!

Oh, every view a nightmare,

a dark dream I must see in the matter of a second!

And it is all there.

Everything I see is all there.

I'm afraid to sleep, 

to dream of those screams,

those things of fear.

But, I must sleep...

...sleep for the coming future.

Reviews

[Sashalee]

A powerful poem, i enjoyed reading it :)

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Preaching in the guise of worded prose, a great reasoning and fashioned delight, well done, good read.

[xXxCynicalWarsxXx]

This was powerful in speech and emotions. I've been here before, too often in fact. I fear sleep to no end, afraid that if I dream it'll be of people and places that I'd rather forget. But I only sleep becasue I need to...and because I, sickening as it is, want to dream of a time where the world was as in the eys of a child, where pain and agony never existed. And for the future, I do too sleep. This was very nice. Very well written from beginning to end.