Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

Awoke with an alarm clock meow.
After the little man on the train
Cut my spaghetti straps
In front of my mother and my father.
Handed me a dull scissors
To defend myself as if a big favor.
Awoke terrified not knowing what happened next.
Awoke forever trying to escape
With a used scissors crusted with blood as if a dagger.
When only the other night it was a dull wooden spoon.
Myself, wondering the potential harm of a spoon.
As I tried to dig out of a tunnel without a single light,
With the cackling cough of a coal miner
Prepared for death so many years.


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