Baskadia

My past

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