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Literature
Go to Hell
I love you
I love you so
I love you more than you could know
Should I die
Then when I do
I'd go to Heaven
And wait for you
And if you weren't there
On Judgement Day
I'd know you'd gone the other way
So I'd give back
The wings and crown
Turn on my heels
And head on down
And just to prove my love is true
I'd go to Hell to be with you
Literature
and grief said
and grief said:
wear your black, polish your shoes,
have our flowers
white
and grief said:
here, wear your Sunday
suit and your Sunday hat with your Sunday dress
in Sunday black, as if this is all
you were meant to be
and grief said:
you, are all my poor. I walk upon you. you
walk in straight lines – coffin march. polish
my shoes, and I shall polish
yours.
there are five of me. I am only one
and grief said:
here is hope, here is wishes,
here is fire, come meet me halfway, I know
you might want to make a trade.
but alas, poor grief,
Literature
Society told him men couldn't be abused.
i.)
his lips were
always bleeding crimson,
bruised purple
violets blossoming
on his jawline from where
she kissed him (with her fists)
ii.)
he had pockmarked
knuckles from where he
bit them and thought
his wrists were paper
when silver slashed
along them.
iii.)
his favourite jumper
concealed the stains and
the bruises but never the
odour of iron-oxide, body
rusting over into flakes
before she peeled him into
a pile of nothing (just an empty shell)
iv.)
and society told him to
'man-up', 'live with it',
'boys don't get abused idiot'
because
they all forgot
abuse can go both ways,
and come from
anywhere and anyone.
(please don't forget he
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For my poem a day project.
As always comments and critiques are welcome.
As always comments and critiques are welcome.
© 2016 - 2024 ShihSnTz
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Me pretty much every morning...