A Nightmare Manifest
A poem on mistakes you cannot fix
I never knew if it was real.
One night, as a small child, I had a nightmare.
I had a nightmare. I did something that,
Without my realizing it, drove all my friends and family to hate me.
I did something wrong that hurt them
And they could never forgive me for it-
They lived with that knowledge after that and secretly disliked me for it.
I never found out if it was real;
I guess it was just easier to think of it as imagined-
But it haunted me-
And now it is accurate.
I have done something to make all my friends hate me, and they have all left.
I know this is real, and it haunts me to think of it.
It is as though I always knew I would do such a thing, yet I truly did not believe so.
It hurts me perpetually to know that I have wronged another- others- ‘friends.’
It hurts more that they could never talk to me like friends do.
It hurts the most that my fundamental nature was to blame and that I may someday hurt another in this same way.
Even now, as I write, there is a rasp in my throat: a pain I cannot soothe.
I fight to hold back tears whenever a small thing reminds me of those people.
I was never good at communicating with others, and I truly believed these people understood that- I did not understand them- but they did not, and they did not attempt to, barring a few instances.
Now am holding in a wretched scream and stinging tears.
This is a pain I cannot soothe.
This is a nightmare, manifest.
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