Past Poem by Brianna Wilshusen

Past



The moaning,
The groaning,
It haunts me still,
I need my fill.
The ghost's of my past,
Will not let me be.
Troubled and hurt,
So full of fear.
The days, the nights,
That's all I hear.
Agonizing screams,
So full of hatred.
The pain in their voices,
It haunts the working day.
My ears are bleeding,
My head starts to burn.
I can't hear myself think,
I haven't slept a wink.
This nightmare,
It's torture.
I can't live like this,
My end is near,
But do not fear.
This is what I want,
This is how it is.

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