That recurring dream; the one where my forgotten past
decides to leave its home in the recess of my memory. and
pops up to say, 'Hello, remember me, you thought you were safe.
But here I am again, meeting you face to face.
Oh the shame you used to feel so strongly, and sometimes fear
of me, your nemesis; I know things others may want to hear
about the things in life you want to forget and lay to rest.'
I wake up, drenched in sweat, heart beating fast
How long will this memory of fear and shame last.
I look around me, and I realise it doesn't matter
If people want to talk, then let them natter.
If faced with my past in the waking hours,
I'll stare it straight in the eye, take away its power.
We all have pasts and secrets that come out at night to meet us.