The Dream Poem by Andrew Lunel

Guns to my head, thoughts I dread,
Voices calling,
The past screaming,
My precious blood soaked my air,
Every breathe I took, a valiant gasp for air.

These men unknown to me, thieves,
Talking in foreign tongue,
Laughing loud,
All bottles bone dry,
Pushed onto my knees, my hands behind my back,
They said I was going to see black.

Struggling to free my hands, in pain,
They kicked my back,
My wrists burnt,
Time was running out,
Familiar faces, despised me for the deeds done,
They were to do what they came to do.

They held me up by my hair, I was helpless,
They threw me onto a table,
My body crying to be free,
My eyes wet with blood and tears (closed tight) ,
Metal against my head, cold as death,
The trigger pressed, instant death.

I awoke feeling full of life, the same place,
That place was no heaven,
Nobody around,
No blood found,
I was alive, overjoyed at that simple fact,
For as strange as it may seem it was just a dream.