Who Knew Poetry

I'm Amanda. I'm a "struggling actor" based in New York. I like to pretend I am a secret poet. Maybe I am, maybe not. Either way, it's fun.
Sun Jun 1

Last Night’s Dream

As she lept from the window

They climbed up the stairs

Feet hitting the pavement

She’s saying her prayers

And sounds of their anger

Ring deep in her ears

Heart pounding the concrete

It’s beating in fear

And knowing she’s followed

By workboots and fists

She’s weighed down by burden

Her soul barely lifts

Their gaining now, sweetheart

You’d better run quick

Their breath hits your neck

Stomache all sick

Fingers dig in

To your trembling waste

Eyes meet your own

Their smirk in your face

Try to scream louder

Louder? No sound.

As ten angry men

Bring you down to the ground

And why can’t you move

And why can’t you scream

These men aren’t real

You’re stuck in a dream

Breathing so heavy

Your face is so hot

And all you can see

Is all you are not

Falling, you’re falling

And who’se their to save?

Seems that you’ve sent home

All of your slaves

You’re sinking, you’re sinking

Now into the sand

And all you can feel

Are unfriendly hands

Wake up. Just wake up.

This may be a dream.

Dear God, oh mother,

How real this all seems.

Save me, oh wake me,

Gasp, flannel sheets

Sleeping and waking

The terror retreats

But nothing I saw

And nothing inside

Is false or unpresent

My soul almost died

Was almost robbed clean

By ten angry men

Who knew all my secrets

And rattled my pen

My bodie’s still aching

My face is still hot

From viewing so starkly

Just what I am not

I’ll strengthen my armor

And increase my speed

I know they won’t catch me

They’ll follow my lead

I steer the ship

I hold my tears

Alone my heart rips

I conquer my fears

Alone on my ship

I sail in the night

Alone on my ship

I’ll fight.