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Waiting with Open Arms

Poetry By: Coralie

A gothic type of poem

Submitted:Oct 16, 2011    Reads: 78    Comments: 6    Likes: 9   

I'm led to a fire

shoved in past my feet

screaming in pain,

they watch me cry.

They stand there as I shriek,

laughing at my misfortune,

and don't bother to help me out.

My feet crumble beneath me,

knee deep in smoldering ash.

Tears streaking my face,

I fall down into the fire,

fighting to breath,

fighting to stay alive.

To remain a human being.

To brush off their laughs.

Skin sagging off my bones,

I'm reduced to nothing.

No one pauses as my bones turn to dust,

as my skin bubbles under the heat,

as I'm disappearing.

My sight is gone,

my hearing destroyed,

and yet I still burn.

Praying for an end,

I wait for death with open arms.


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