Author's note: This is the first poem I've ever written. Got bored at work and this is the result. I hope it is satisfactory.
The First of November
A Nightmare
It was always the same.
It never changed.
It never changes.
Never.
Waking erases it.
Memories are gone into the dark rain that fills it.
Tears of rain that fill the knowledge of the coming of that day.
The unbearable day that will come before the dark storm of rain.
Only one memory remained from this recurring torment.
It would be the first day of November.
What year?
This was the mystery.
Why?
This was the unanswered question.
What?
He had no clue.
He only knew that day would be the beginning of the end.
But deep down inside,
In that place where his hopes and fears and dreams had life,
He knew,
That day would also be the day of his greatest triumph.
There was one other who shared this nightmare with him.
The one who was not his son and yet was the son he loved.
The one who suffered the same torment and dreamt
Of that same day.
The unbearable day that will come before the dark storm of rain.
The day that would be the beginning of the end.
He shared the nightmare,
This one that he called Son.
Would he also share the triumph?