Hysteria (Poem)


I wrote this a few years ago and can sense a similar tone of expression to my very recent posts, and a similar suffering too… Praying this would change in the coming years.


Lights are off, it’s dark

Constricted, no freedom

In a can, up on top

Not seen, with dust

Compressed with little light, up on the shelf, help me it’s tight!

One day, sometime during day or night

I don’t know, I’m confused, I lost the sense of time and sight

I had hope that someday perhaps. It might…

Squeak, the door slowly opens

Grabs it, and pulls us down

Between his sweating hands

He wets the can

And shakes it like a fan

I can’t see, but can hear

The noise that triggers fear

Opening the can, throwing us all

Hey, does he think I’m a ball?

Drip drip drip… one after another

Wait, I lost my mother

The oven is hot, I can feel it

The fire is red, I can hear it

You compress me, shake me and burn me

Wait till you see

I’ll show you the “she” in me

Slang, the popcorn, starts to jump on the man’s face. Plug, plug, plug.

On your face, criminal!


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