A face so clear from a memory so far, Distorted emotions emerge from the heart, A dagger, a knife, one more in the back, How much is needed for fading to black? A smile or some words flash through the mind, Eyes are squeezed shut but still they find, This heart rendering recollection’s tears, Welling up inside, swollen by fear. Who are you, the source of this pain? How did you manage to tighten these reins? I thought I was free; so how did you hurt, And cause such distress that I craved to be dirt; Travel back to the dust from which I was made, Because of you I needed peace from a grave. A face with black eyes, a mouth sealed shut, Lip prised together yet they’ve said enough, The fear envelopes me; it’s all that I feel, Sometimes deep inside it seems all that is real. This face that you own; how can it exist? It has enough power to bring a blade to the wrist. It could kill me- maybe it will, Due to a heart made of iron and emotions of steel. Though I realise I may be too hard on the face, That is hardly deserves this amount of disgrace. For I understand, now even more, That you too are in need of a final cure; As my pain hurts you too so you’d rather not see, Nor know anything at all due to me. I know that you’ve cried and I know that it hurts, You had to ignore it; you had to desert. Yet it doesn’t explain the power I gave, You may be the only one who can save, Me. But I’m not sure I even believe anymore, For it all seems too black; I don’t believe in a cure. Post Traumatic Stress it may be, Who knows? Least of all me! But what was this trauma; what did we do? Why am I so frickin’ scared of you?? So I lay down and wonder for all that has been, Is my face hard for you or one from your dreams?