It pierced my soul like a shrill scream.
I was jerked awake to see the reality,
By the rivers that flowed from my eyes.
It had all started beautifully.
It had all started still.
As I had enjoyed peace and love.
I found myself back home then,
As someone seemed to call.
An old lady she was.
I want to come in, she said.
But each time I tried to let her in,
She seemed to disappear.
A triumph it was for her,
When she entered through the window.
She smiled sweetly at me,
Which instilled in me a fear unknown.
She walked toward me.
I was hysterical now.
I searched around, a blade I got.
In case, I thought to myself, I needed a weapon.
She was now almost touching me,
Her eyes full of evil mirth.
Trembling, I stabbed her thrice.
Expecting her to fall,
I prepared myself to face a lifeless body.
Yet she stood standing there,
Eyes full of that mirth.
I staggered, I ran.
I called out to people, but the world seemed empty.
Until I saw the ghost of my forefather,
Who had come to protect me from this evil unspoken.
He was sacrificing his soul, to save mine.
My eyes opened, as I was breathing heavily.
An illusion all this was, it seemed.
A game a child was playing far away, unaware,
Who had created an image, a shadow of mine, weary with time.
But as I looked back and recalled that haunting smile,
The rivers continued to flow.
(I don't know if this counts as poetry. I don't think it is.
I wrote this at 4.30am as I couldn't sleep!)