Reads: 23  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

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

Whirled into this cold world,

Curled beneath it's pearled words.

Hurled unto its purled herds,

I dreamed to fly among the birds.

Moonbeam til the gleam jaded,

What is left, when the screams have faded?

Nothing else abated, it seemed fated,

Slated and weighted while darkness waited.

Through grated teeth I hated the outdated,

The inflated that dictated my home a heath. 

Standard practice for slandered Ander,

No choice or voice, just hoisted in -

Like it was all his sin, I can't begin.

A thin painted grin, pinned upon skin

Hides a grim din locked deep within.

I never talked, too shocked, rocked

By no one and stalked as I walked -

Not by others, by my mocked and blocked self.

A dreamed elf that hit the shelf

When wealth and stealth outweighed mental health.

Escape was all I wanted. 

A cape was all I wanted. 

A shape, to make or break my own landscape.

A scrape or two doesnt wound,

But my hearts agape and unpruned.

Now my life is ruined, untuned -

It seems I've been, marooned.

Submitted: July 07, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Fayren Meric. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:


Ann Sepino

I watched a YT crime video the other day, where the suspect may have been framed by his family member for a murder he did not commit. This sort of reflects the story I saw, which makes the poem more intense from my perspective. Great piece!

Thu, July 8th, 2021 9:09am

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