Dream

This was one more of the poems I was doing in my twisted nursery rhyme slash trauma thing. Warning, this is a little on the dark side. This is called...

Dream

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily life is but a dream.

That's the song their mother would sing to tell them it's okay. 

"I just made your father angry, he'd never intentionally hurt us," she'd say. "Now I'll hear not a peep, close your eyes and go to sleep, and dream. Dream, of wonderful things. Remember no one can hurt us there; we're always safe in a dream. And don't forget I'll always love you and care. No matter what I'll never leave you, just dream and I'll be there."

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily life is but a dream.

They are awakened by the screams. Their parents yell back and forth until their voices are hoarse; then the fighting transpires. They close their eyes and sing their song until their father gets tired. They scurry to their beds as their mother walks in slumped over and weakened. 

Blood dripping from her wounds she sings her tune and with the comfort it brings they're off to dream.

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily life is but a dream.

And then their mother screams. 

"I'm sick of this May," they heard their father say before the screaming froze. They wait for their mother to bring them comfort, but she never shows. At the sound of utter silence and the sight of no violence is when their journey starts. They find their mother in a pool of blood with a knife in her heart. Neither of them cry, sit by her side, lay down and close their eyes.

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily life is but a dream.