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Submitted by Kassandra on 2 July 2009 - 6:53pm.| Updated 2 July 2009 - 6:53pm.
Style / Type:
freeform
I watch as she lies there suffering,
I hate that i can’t help her,
She dies on the inside,
Brusied on the out,
She is put down & treated like dirt,
She cries but no one wipes her tears,
She screams but no one hears,
She dies and no one moves,
She is now dead & people feel bad,
They wish they did something,
They wished they had helped her,
But now it’s too late,
Everyone was too late
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you have managed to slip past the commonality & create images &
Hi Kassandra, a brave first write on a tricky subjest, you have managed to slip past the commonality & create images & tell the story so it is relevant to more than just YOU & those involved… that is a good thing for poets.
This is a sad story & an awful experience I feel for you if it has reality (they always do on some level) t it;s base, but congratulate you on not getting lost in the “victim” aspect of the expression, that can be a trap… I look forward to more.
Cheers
Anni
We dont believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveal