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Poetry/Poems

Haunted


Anger arises inside of my soul
as a little girl’s standing alone in the cold.
In dirty brown mountains placed far, far away,
Can’t help but remember that girl to this day…

No eyes in her sockets, burnt skin on her face;
she cries and she begs for her life to be saved.
Her ear on the right has been fused to her head;
Her mouth has be carved up by granite and lead.

Her small rounded nose has been crushed to extreme;
The blood on her forehead splashed back from her teeth.
The pain that is swelling consumes in her chest;
the gargles and gurgles, they come to no end.

I can’t help but wonder what else I could do,
the memory’s engraved and it fucks with my mood.
Although she is dead, she still comes to life.
Oh , nothing’s more precious than being alive.

~~
Written By John Matar

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About John Matar

A Philosophical Journey shares the work of John Matar as well as other poets, writers and bloggers. Topics and discussions written are proudly displayed to enlighten and inform.

Discussion

One thought on “Haunted

  1. it breaks my heart to know what you’ve been through….and I thank you from the bottom of that broken heart….

    Posted by Tiffany | May 23, 2012, 17:41

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A Philosphical Journey ©copyright 2011-2012

© John Matar and 'A Philosophical Journey', 2011-2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to John Matar and 'A Philosophical Journey' with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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