A dark place of shock,
Remnents from past,
Yet also the unreal.
The mind running, on edge.

Terrible things from the past.
Hurt and pain,
From a mere illusion.
Yet also a reality gone by

The nightmare,
Full of emotion,
The dark night terrors,
Memory of the darkness,
The nightmare,
The past.

A culmination,
But also.

Real, for a time.
Inflated by the mind.

Making this.
This was.
My nightmare.

Been meaning to write this since I’ve woken up, last night I had a nightmare, it was about manipulation. Hardly surprised it started to sink into my sleep.

This is a poem based off the nightmare, or me reflecting on it. I’ve been totally happy today after the nightmare, got my essays submitted, talking to friends, meeting one tomorrow, hearing from one I haven’t in a long time who’s graduating today, someone I really want to see again!

And now. Going out with my coursemates drinking, celebrating the essays being off our plate before lectures start again.

Will Not Be Missed

I will not miss the harsh words,
Hateful remarks
Ridiculing and lack of care.

The hurtful, will not be missed.
They thrive on others’ manipulate and break,
On and on along a warpath.

Do not miss,
The hurtful,
For they will receive what they give out.
A hope for their payment for their hurtfulness.

They will not be missed.
Those who crush others for pleasure.
Those who.
String others along.
Use, hurt, abuse, and manipulate.

It is fine,
It is simple,
Time heals all wounds,
Time sees that wounds inflicted are wounds also received.

Time. The true enforcer.
And the survivors,
Just need to remember,
The pain, will not be missed.