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Array
(
[sid] => 126002
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => LET the poem, CRY
[time] => 2006-09-20 15:57:17
[hometext] => i couldnt find a topic to place to this, its a matter of perception that i hope is percieved correctly.... is it worth it even when it seems no hope is all the hope you have
[bodytext] => This story takes place on the twenty third floor She’s young twenty seven But doesn’t want to live any more. She stands on the ledge wondering her self worth So alone in the world And had this feeling since birth So many thoughts circle her brain Trying to determine in deaths, loss or gain A single tear erupts , from her trembling eyes It seems so hard living she’d rather die ……………..SHE JUMPS……………. Gravity takes effect but yet , she feels so free Time slowed to a crawl, her mind wondered continuously. Memories of abuse from a stepfather The mental, physical bouts Begging, pleading “please don’t go” When her biological walked out Questioning her mothers rage Over an abortion at a young age Contemplating over all the things That will never be said No goodbyes, no-one tried to realize Even with her forced smile Slowly inside she died Thinking, now motherless What of the two kids she leaves behind All the dreams and aspirations flourished She coached her self into belief No more worries no more fear Her screams belted out in relief ……………………….I’M FREEEeeee……………………. The world is spinning, all objects come into view ( her hallucinations begins to contribute to her diluted visions, To encourage the fate of a situation she no longer controls) Considering , if only for a minute Will there be pain upon contact Closes her eyes and smiles Content in knowing there is no turning back Arms wide open as if Embracing her demise She contacts solid earth Instantly she dies Her son now eight Her daughter approaches three Caring in societies eyes grand mom says “the kids will stay with me” So sincere looking A mind filled with regret Thinking “I’ve been a mom since eight teen, I’m forty five and not done yet!” The monster of mental abuse breeds Implanted in the children A slow growing subconscious seed. A son wondering “is it my fault” “I could have gotten a, A instead of the one D” “I should have let you rest, While my sister played with me” “ I know now, my bad behavior at times makes things worst” And I’m sorry I lied “I did take the dollar from your purse.” He then begins to cry So much pain so much hurt Sister ask's "where’s mommy", he reluctantly lies But how long will “She’s at work”….work Stay strong for us………… [comments] => 4 [counter] => 375 [topic] => 32 [informant] => evolon [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 12 [ratings] => 5 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => SadPoetry )
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