Damaged Goods Poem by Gero Lorna

Images of the past appear once again
I press the heal of my hands over my eyes,
these images I want to dim.

Faces of those dead and alive interrupt
the calmness before I sleep.
The shadows of those who in the night,
into my bedroom they would creep.

I can't seem to stop crying
and God I want to scream.
This is my bedtime everynight
the reocurring dream.

My relationships go on suffering
and they have for many years.
Trapped inside these images
surrounded by all my fears.

Tonight I remembered a flashlight
and all the events that surround it,
if only I could remember the good memories
and the bad ones I wish I could forget.

Images permanently imprinted in my mind
like a carvings in wood.
The failed attempts of happiness
confirms that I am damaged goods.