Published June 15, 2009
This written with my grandmother in mind. From her mistakes I
learned, and this was written for her. Your input will be appreciated
My life was lost in his.
Whatever potential in me,
Stripped,
Hung,
Buried.
Livid am I but still I sit,
Mute,
Seething,
Waiting for a chance
That will never come again.
Ravenous am I, but still I sit,
Destitute
Limp and Lame,
Living by the twisted mercy
Of his heavy hand.
But still I sit,
Without hope,
But not without faith.
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140,808 Literary Works • 673,689 Reviews
I really like this. I don't think you can really review what you like so I will leave it at that.
Keep Writing
-Flower-
That was rather refreshing, a nice, short, simple poem. I particularly liked the repition of 'I sit' It was very effective and you didn't use it too much which is great. Can't really think of anything else to say