They soak the pillow. My mind tumbles " Regain control, Regain control".
But I am unable to.
The clock ticks upon the far wall exhaustion seeps into my mind, into my soul, slip deeper , deeper into sleep the tears eventually stop. They wait for another day.
Lighting flashes, thunder rumbles within my dreams, tossing and turning nightmares that became reality cause me to cry out, no one hears, no ever heard that little boy I once was.
Pen and paper became my salvation, my sanity. Poetry, Gods gift to me. The years have been long although I am not quite old. I pray, someday I will get the answer, Lines on paper scars from my heart.
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