Something Imagined



Trembling from the cold,

Sitting in the darkness,

Not one tear came

As she rose to walk away.

There was no bleeding,

The pain was very little,

And she wasn’t bothered yet

By the scratches on her body.

Left behind in that corner

Was something imagined,

Spotted with deep punctures

Where she’d stabbed holes.

She was not afraid

Of being followed again,

Or another surprise attack

From what death now kept.

Why would she cry,

Over a natural response

To solving more than one

Of her problems at a time.

A few quiet swift movements,

And the cause of her troubles

Was so perforated and deflated,

It wasn’t an issue anymore.

Driven by the cold,

The hallucination momentary,

Until the trembling stopped

With its terrible visions.

Finding herself yet again

In the same padded room,

Painting over the scratches

From a familiar nightmare.
Ria 2016

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