In Fear of Freud
By Willow Rose
When digging up graves of things long dead
in the deep subconscious within my head,
Beware of the spirits you have exhumed
my sense of self may be consumed;
Their fetid breath engulfs me now
with the pain of the past that I wouldn’t allow
to reach its crawling, grasping hand
into this facade I so carefully planned.
I packed it down with tears and sweat,
and now you say it’s not dead yet–
Oh! Let it rest! Please let it be,
I cannot bear this scrutiny;
A shapeless evil kept interred,
A Pandora’s Box locked and secured.
The weak insecurities that filled me with hate,
I learned to control; to sublimate –
and being forgotten almost ceased to be,
Now you’ve broken the locks and set them free.
As I tremble and shake
at this probing intrusion–
if all I thought real
©Willow Rose 2011