In the middle of the night,
I wake up with a
blood-curdling scream,
because I don't dream.
I have nightmares.

I see the funeral.
I see the flowers
perched against the wall.
I see myself looking into
the casket.
I see my family
huddled together, mourning.

I won't mourn.
I have no emotions left.
I spent months on end,
worrying about him.
I spent my days praying,
even though I knew
it would do no good.
I spent hours crying,
because I knew I wouldn't
get my happy ending.

Selfish sounding, Yes I know,
but it wasn't supposed to be this way.
Now he's merely just a broken dreams.
A wishful thought of sorrow and misery.

It's the Nightmare of My Father.