Lee is an aspiring writer who makes poems in his free time. Words and lines give him comfort in trying times.
In my slumber, she torments me
Memories of my youth, simple and carefree
Her gloomy voice, echoing in my ears
Unveiling my deep, darkest fears.
Polly, my playmate in almost every game
A ray of sunshine, her smile’s ever the same
In our journey, I’m mostly on the driver’s seat
She’s on the shotgun, always looking at the street.
We were ten when Randy joined us
Cool mohawk and piercing, lips full of cuss
After his begging, I agreed to let him drive
In hindsight, that’s when my mind started to dive.
At first, it was just all curiosity
He drove where the adults frolic and party
Those flashy lights, girls wearing all skimpy
Randy and I ogled, awestruck in their glory.
Polly covered her eyes, whimpering
“We are off-track”, she keeps saying
“We have to go to the Dream Land”
She believes we’re running out of sand.
We’re thirteen when we picked him up in the Frown Town
He’s Tristan, shy, sullen and always looking down
I need to rest, but I can’t let Randy drive again
Polly’s still crying, so Tristan took the wheels then.
I woke up with a heavy heart
Felt like my world was being torn apart
I gazed into the nothingness
As my life soon was void of happiness.
Tristan continued driving, as the whole gang was downcast
Dark clouds and heavy rains were always the forecast
We’re now wandering through no man’s land
Polly’s still whispering, “We’re running out of sand”.
The headaches came soon after
As we fought to see who’s the next driver
We’re getting deeper into the quicksand of melancholy
I think it’s ending, my life’s symphony.
Mother eventually had to intervene
She said she needs to remove this smokescreen
Joyride? There’s neither joy nor a ride
In the misery of my mind I was tied.
She handed me those happy pills as a cure
“Son, the voices will be gone, I’m sure”
But Randy and Tristan are still with me
Although that was the last time I’ve seen Polly.
That was ten years ago, Polly, I’ve got my life now
Yeah I get by, trying to make it through the day somehow
But what if Randy and Tristan were the ones to die?
I remembered you never even said goodbye.
Your ghost, these what ifs and could have beens
I hope you reached Dream Land, even became one of the queens.
Wished I could have written a better story,
Not like this, in bed every night, feeling sorry.
© 2019 Lee Yael