Re-Awakened...
I've never really had much use
for the concept of hell
for if I ever did
I would be in it now.
For the same images keep running
through my head over, and over.
They climb inside the puncture wound
in my heart,
that has not yet healed.
A blur of images floating by.
In desperate need to,
renew my thought patterns
instead of boarding on the obsession.
To distracted to care, until,
the floodlights of memories
fills my senses
re-awaken my full attention.
by
A A 17.
Memories of bad times- - I wish I knew the antidote for them. I guess one thing they do is to make us appreciate the good times- - I think I'll go reponder that! ! ! At least they give us fodder for our writing. Good job.
Punture! ! Wound in my heart. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very precisely detailed and effectively disturbing imagery, Annette. Perfectly captured visual of thoughts climbing into the puncture wound of the heart. Terrifically executed, Annette. Well done.