Among the symbols of my youth:
The wood, the steel, the stone,
I lay to hear the reasonance
Of my empty second home.
When at rest and meditation,
This place bares ghosts of old.
Growth now stands stagnant
Stunted from the cold.
The weather hold no bearing here;
The air is always chill.
Freezing with the sounds of shreiks,
High and loud and shrill.
Part of me was stolen here,
A part I can't retrieve.
So I wait ad infinitum
For respite unreceived.
Like the old Ms. Havisham,
I just can't cut the ties
That bind me here foreve
Under his burning eyes.
All I am and all I was
Is drifting on the breeze,
So I will lay until I pluck
My old self from these trees
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Canary word: Present
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125,029 Literary Works • 672,781 Reviews
A perfect perception of the horrors or rape. I have met many people who have been violated and they go through so much. I like the reference to Charles Dicken's Ms. Havisham in Great Expectations...even though I hated that book. I also like the lines where you talk about being forever trapped under his eyes. It was great. You did very well and I hope you continue to write and I will pray for you on this matter.
i like it and the flow of your words is nice. Something deep i really liked it good job
WOW!!! its story was compelling and just beautifully written!!
The rhythm was perfect and the point of the story was direct!
I love it!!!!
Keep on writing!!
Love, love, love it. It's so hard to write pieces with a proper rhythm, but you have mastered it! There were a few typos, which I changed below...
Keep on writing! This is a wonderful poem
Wow, this was really cool. The tempo and the beat type are rarely heard these days, and I really appreciated the new stuff.
, my only issue was I didn't know what all the words meant right off the bat, but that can hardly be helped. Keep writing, it's just down the street from 'There'. -Bird