Nightmare
A Question Poem About Chasing Dreams
How long will the traffic light be red?
Will you wait until it turns green?
Why are the people always leaving?
Why can’t they just stay?
Was it hard for them to go?
Was I that easy to let go?
Will you also join them?
Will everyone join them?
Was I destined to stay? Or
Was I destined to be left behind?
Could anyone explain what is happening?
Is this my premonition?
Is this my punishment?
Was I wrong?
Am I wrong?
Will I be wrong?
Will you paint my dark room black?
Or would you care enough to wake me up?
This is a 12-year-old poem. I wrote this in August 2007 as one of the final requirements in our Creative Writing course.
I may be a young and inexperienced writer then (well I am still inexperienced now), but the poem pretty much connects to me. I still have my dark room, and a potential painter or waker. The only difference is the symbolism.
Do you have a dark room? Will they paint it black? or Will they wake you up?
