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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Photo credit: Michael Gaida


Maybe the writing’s affect is working adversely

However, this is who he is, firstly.

Ignoring him, naive people curse me

Oh man the pain, please have mercy

But before then, first he 

Has to swallow this cup of poison, he’s thirsty

Turn the page on the same old story 

A tale full of glory so raw, keep it gory 

A word colored image, the art of the war he 

Writes new pages with letters the more he 

Pushes the envelope the more it’s lost a sense of stationary 

He’s been so stationary. The frustration is a shell 

It keeps him stuck in an enticing, synthetic hell 

Breaking out and embracing that they won’t tell 

Their silence is constantly striking at a bell 

Changed his march to match his new beat

An outcast who’s fallen obsolete 

Shame on you for overlooking such a treat

Take the poison without the rocks, keep it neat.

Looking backwards sitting in the front row seat 

It’s fine, this isn’t the first sign of defeat.


Know your silence echoes in my ears 

Never really had the respect of my peers 

Tried hard to keep calm waters on the shaky piers 

But my efforts are futile, it appears

Like it or not, this is who I am when the fog clears

No worries as my success nears

I’ll remember those that held me through fears 

And the rest’s silence can just remain an echo in my ears.

-Christian Reese

Submitted: February 21, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Christian Reese. All rights reserved.

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