Poem -

Melissa's Dream

Melissa's Dream

I dreamed that you didn't hit me or push,
slowed down and stopped being in a rush,
at last you were still, just for a moment,
but then that melted and you were back in torment.

They talk about provocation; imagine a young child, 
walking into a bathroom and seeing his father wild,
cutting up his mother in the bath, in pieces,
that memory so young, so terrible, never ceases.

It really happened - because she was a loose woman,
could have been for a number of reasons it began;
I'll stay in my dream - at least I'm safe here,
I may shed a tear but no one can get near.

They say that it's getting worse, I'll stay alone,
I wouldn't have even started anything, if I'd known.

NB. My wife looked after the murderers three children, including the small boy who walked into the bathroom.
The father was released from prison after only serving seven years.
 

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