The Stranger, the Demon, the Ghost

by Alyson Worrell 5 months ago in sad poetry

Weeps, burst into flames. I dream. Grandma. Weeping at night.

The Stranger, the Demon, the Ghost

Weeps

My body weeps for peace.

Burst into Flames

Even in the dark your hand finds my hand and we burst into flames.

I Dream,

Of pain free days

For understanding.

For less negative thoughts

For compassion,

To help others feel hopeful for the future,

To one day feel no pain.

By going through all the pain and suffering is for a reason,

To make people feel understood and supported

To run with my dreams and never look back at the darkness.

Grandma

Leaning on her for guidance comfort

She holds my hand tightly

Our eyes meet, we share the same pain.

Weeping at Night

Will my four year old daughter have to keep listening to me weep at night when crying out for relief.

Will my husband stop looking at me wondering when his Alyson will return again.

sad poetry
Alyson Worrell
Alyson Worrell
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Alyson Worrell

Writing is my therapy.

Writing brings sunshine into my day.

Creating a community.

Creating a place for growth.


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