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Literature Text
Child, you must have no fear,
for your end is drawing near,
And all your pain will fade away
and you'll be taken to a better day.
A time and place much happier,
When you were full of laughter,
for your end is drawing near,
And all your pain will fade away
and you'll be taken to a better day.
A time and place much happier,
When you were full of laughter,
Literature
umbrellas
I.
A boy putters in the hotel
corridor, leashed
by a single thread of duty--
it is wound
twice around the doorknob,
pulls taut at his wrist.
Recede through the keyhole,
and his keepers are weary,
sprawled like dead
leaves on bedspreads,
and fading
into sleep.
II.
A small girl wails, maybe three,
her teethy pitch escalating
by years.
In the rented night,
her last cry strangles,
undone by hands
on wrists.
III.
A forty-foot red curtain separates us
from the amphibious stage.
At the cirque du soleil
(i squint to see the sun),
clowns chase leaks
with patchy umbrellas.
This is a present, a moment
like a birthday. But
Literature
Reflection Untrue
Look deep in the mirror, what do you see?
Is the person reflected who you long to be?
Something has changed, innocence has died
The scar covered body reveals the heart that lied
Stare into the eyes of the stranger unknown
Forever unloved, forever alone
Black lined eyes tell of nights unslept
So many helpless times of rivers wept
Steady wind blows out the candle of hope
She rubs the rageing burn made by the rope
She hangs a suicide note by a single nail
This time it'll work, I know I can't fail.
Looking out the window at the coldest mist
It is now time, the razors are guided to her wrist
They dance painfully until their work is d
Literature
Expecting
Expecting
three houses down,
the neighbor boy's soft
spot has fused together
too soon. now his brain has no
room to grow.
I cannot allow my mind to dwell
the daughter of a guy I work with
has Down syndrome,
an immortal
toddler. her nose runs; she watches
cartoons. they have a special
guard
on the front doorknob.
I cannot allow my mind to dwell
my half-brother's adopted daughter
was born
with spina bifida. she wears special
braces on her ankles
to help her walk. she suffers
operation after
operation, but
the doctors are certain: one day the cord
will simply
stretch
too
taut.
I cannot allow my mind
our first was born
Suggested Collections
The voice of ones self talking about a less than rewarding prospect.
© 2005 - 2024 po0pslinger
Comments5
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This is extremely deep.. especially since one of my closest family members committed suicide 1 1/2 years ago. To me, the poem seems like a child or younger person whom is dying from a self-inflicted injury, and is watching the happier times of life pass them by. Very emotional.