It is not the things
In the dark of night
That spreads the wings
Of terror and fright.
It's the reality that bangs
Insistently at the door
That pounds and pounds
Till the barrier is no more.
Walls down,
It's like a wave descending
Like drowning in the deep
Its violence never ending.
It stops the heart
Within the chest
It steals the last of
Precious breath.
It's the tears that fall
Like acid rain
It's the stuff of nightmares
That chase the sane.
It's the powerless feeling
Groping uselessly around
Standing in a room
Screaming with no sound.
Its pity from those
Who don't lift a finger
When they see
Terror in your eyes
Left haunting,
To linger.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem