Facing Reality

Fragments of yesterday.
Flashing, drifting.
They won't let me be.
Reappearing frequently.
First, on the spine of my book.
Whispering, calling.
Next, in my mirror, so fine—look!
Clawing, gnawing.
Escape did I.
Read me, they did.
Hide, I tried.
For they can't see me, can they?
Even braved to say: "Leave me be!"
But deaf they are, most dreadfully.
So hunting, haunting they kept. Demanding, now laughing, they went. Awful them lot, you think?
How nice of you.
Not just part of me they are, you see.
But deep within me, they reside. Unfortunately.
My horrendous reality.