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My Fallen Angel

I am standing in front of a mirror
But it’s not my reflection I see.
Instead of a cheerful, smiling blonde girl
With striking blue eyes,
I see a sad little girl;
Left to fight her own battle
A battle no one knows about
A battle she can never win…
 
I feel pity for the poor girl and fall to my knees
Only to see that she falls too.
I begin to cry,
And so does she.
Then it hits me;
Am I this little girl?
Yes, this is me.
It must be me…
 
Then I see him…
The man in the corner
With fiery red eyes,
The man of pure black.
And I’m frozen
I can’t run,
I can’t hide,
I’m stuck here as he moves closer…
 
He strokes the girl’s hair,
My hair.
And she, I, begin to cry.
My parents sleep upstairs,
The small sobs I make unheard
Masked by the sound of their TV
Leaving them oblivious
Never to know what has happened.
 
The man commands me to get up,
To grab the glass paper holder I found in the street.
I do as I am told.
His fiery eyes meet mine and he says, “Do it.”
I do as I am told.
I smash the thing upon my head
As I have done every night he comes
Out of fear of what he’ll do to them.
 
An intense throbbing overcomes me.
My world spins, tilting wearily.
Yet the man stands still and commands, “Again.”
I do as I am told.
Slowly I reach for the glass orb
And smash it against my skull.
I fall to the floor as my vision blackens, “Get up.”
I do as I am told.
 
I look at the little girl,
I look at myself.
There’s red in her hair, my hair.
My hand moves slowly
Searching for the familiar hot, sticky substance.
There it is, dripping to my carpet.
“Again!”
I do as I am told.
 
One last time,
It’s aways three.
This is the hope I cling to...
That after the third hit he’ll make me clean up my mess,
And then he’ll leave.
As he’s always done.
He will put me to sleep,
And he will leave…
 
I stumble down the hall to the bathroom
Where he already stands.
He turns on the water,
Always fiery hot.
I grab a towel and soak it,
Then press it against my numb wound
A pain I have become accustomed to;
A pain that is no longer pain.
 
He sings a song in a language I don’t understand
As I clean the blood from my hair
And my wound heals.
I look in the mirror and it’s gone,
Just like it is every time.
As if it were never there
But the feeling, the throbbing sensation called pain
Still remains.
 
I run to my bed and hide under my covers.
He comes in and stands in the corner in which he came.
Whispering a sweet lullaby in his foreign language,
A language never spoken by the human mouth
As I lay silent and watch him in fear.
My fallen angel...
Then I wake up.

(2014)

I used to, and still do, have this nightmare. I felt like the best way to portray it was through poetry. Don't worry, I'm ok. There's nothing wrong with me. It's just a silly nightmare.

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