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Angry hands, wounded eyes, hungry hearts, tainted smiles.

Memories of nothing clear,

Mountains out of molehills, dear



Muffled screams in the night,

Push it down, stop the fight.

Don't tell them what they cannot "hear."

Stop it now, he smells your fear.



But that was then, and this is now.

Is it memories I cannot allow?

Why can't I get past this damned blockade?

Why is it then, I'm so afraid?



Memories can't hurt you, dear.

Tell them what they want to hear.

Stop the voices in your head.

Stop them now, or you'll be dead.



Too late, now, too late, I fear.

They come to me in whispers clear.

Of innocence lost, and childhood dreams.

Of guilt, and shame, and quiet screams.

Restless nights, and desperate days.

Love costs more than it pays.



How can I make you understand?

Something I, myself cannot comprehend?

I have survived, yet I cannot give.

I cannot trust, I cannot live,

Until I know what I have lost.

Until then I pay the cost.



Help me then, remember the pain.

Don't turn away, or say something lame.

Like "Forget it, dear, get on with your life."

If I could I would, but it cuts like a knife.

It colors the way I see, hear and feel.

To me it's there, yet it feels so unreal.



I've tried so hard to hold it back,

They're killing me, these memories I lack.

I'm dying anyway, a slow painful death.

Sometimes, I even wonder if it's worth the breath.

At least death stops the pain.



The memories too.....

Death stops the shame, no one but I knew.



Angry hands, wounded eyes, hungry hearts, tainted smiles.

Memories of nothing clear,

Mountains out of molehills, dear.......

~Holly F~

Copyright

1993