September 11, 2008
By Damon Patterson, Mesa, AZ

A crash rings out and the windows rattle,
A frightening sound indeed...
A flashback smashes into your brain,
And it cries, screams, and pleads...
Grab your pillow frightful boy,
His eyes so white in the dark.
Harder now the flashbacks slam,
He cries with his back quite arched.
Lurching forward are twitching hands,
Stretched out for something to grab.
But into his brain the memories zap,
Driving this poor boy mad.
Feeling pain, frustration, and fear,
He cries... too hard to breathe.
Rubbing away the sorrowful tears,
His eyelids begin to bleed.
Another boom, another sound,
The lightening flashes bright.
He sits there frightened, all alone,
Too week to put up a fight...
Rain pelts hard on window drums,
He tries to plug his ears.
The sound too much to concentrate,
On facing all of his fears.
No solace found from voice or touch,
He hides away from all.
Hidden in his closet here,
His tears begin to fall.
His blue eyes search for comfort then,
But that is hardly found.
Feeling as if he'll soon explode,
His heart begins to pound.
And all too soon, still lost in space,
His face still sore and red...
He lay there still... his breathing is scarce,
He looks as if he's dead.
But peace is found in this young man,
Who broken and brittle lay.
This is he, who cries at night,
And smiles fake throughout each day.
Linger here no more my friends,
This story is at its end...
You know that this is all the truth...
And surely not pretend.

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