Ivan Musoke

These Thoughts…

Eyes shut, he tries not to look back,

Tries to ignore the past.

A lump forms in his throat and it hurts.

The truth hurts and that truth,

 

Escape it, he tries

Simple though it may be

Though deny it he will,

He will never be free.

Free from the thoughts,

The ones that keep him up at night.

 

Etched permanently in his mind,

He tries to bury them, but he can’t,

To deny them is to deny their worth,

They haunt him,

Taunt him.

Sometimes he lets them,

What choice is there?

 

Ticked, he isn’t,

That they invade his dreams.

Or so it seems, he could be wrong,

He doesn’t want to be right,

He just wants to be

 

Aye, it won’t come easy,

He looks o’er the piece of paper,

The words that were written by hand,

The lump comes back,

His throat hurts,

He doesn’t care,

For a minute,

He is happy…

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