- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Man Who Wasn't There
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There's a man in my head who wasn't there,
Now he shows up every night.
He uses my conscious as some kind of lair,
And then we proceed to fight.
"You're good for nothing," he softy swears.
I cry, "That can't be right!"
He uses my conscious as some kind of lair,
And then we proceed to fight.
The pain he causes is beyond compare;
My eyes are clenched shut tight.
"You're good for nothing," he softy swears.
I cry, "That can't be right!"
The pain he causes is beyond compare;
My eyes are clenched shut tight.
I bow my head in cold despair,
Knowing he's blind to light.
"You're good for nothing," he softy swears.
I cry, "That can't be right!"
I bow my head in cold despair;
Knowing he's blind to light.
There's a man in my head who wasn't there,
Now he shows up every night.
"You're good for nothing," he softy swears.
I cry, "That can't be right!"
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Poet survivor contest
Trigger #49: title a poem The Man Who Wasn't There
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