I am an anchor

Dragging— through

The mushy sand.

My boat is towed

Out to sea.

Swept up by the undertow,

And taken far from me.

Birds don’t chirp

Lullabies,

Lovely as

I walk by.

Instead they sound

The sirens.

Blaring

Wailing

Shrieks of the past.

I hold my breath—

Deep under water.

My ears, they ring—

My heart, she pounds—

My voice cant scream,

Cant make a sound.

I’ve got this boulder.

That was put on me.

A thousand pounds

I must carry around.

My legs wobble and my back breaks

From the toll,

His boulder takes.

Inside my mind,

Is festering bugs

Like those

which feast

On rotten doves.

I wish my memories

Might disappear

Before ghostly fears

Come back with tears.

This burden is not mine to shoulder.

For it is your tarred boulder—

And just because

I pulled the trigger—

Does not mean the gun was mine

And yet here I am

Three guns in hand

And a thousand pounds upon my shoulders.

I need someone

To save— me from the quicksand

He laid out,

At the very first touch.

Save me please,

Before it is all too much.