Baskadia

It hunts my present like an hunter hunts meats for his wife

Like thorns and nails piecing through my veins like am Jesus been crucified once again

Like an ocean with great storm blowing with out direction waiting for someone to say 'peace be still'

My past like a volcano boiling heavily everyday preparing to erupt when I prepare to sleep

Am in pains, am stress, am tensed, am struggling sometimes crying when no one is there

Am weak, shaking wants to crack open like an earthquake but am scared of the damage it may cause

My past has gotten to me.