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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
a poem i wrote for Alyssa Cavender's contest. picture number one and girl named Olivia

Submitted: September 13, 2009

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Submitted: September 13, 2009




The sun seeping over head.

I have no comfort in these hours.

As the mountain tried to subside,

The nauseating feeling of deaths hands.

The hike I took was terrifyingly long.

This mountain path I knew since a child.

The blurring of the green woods,

Made me trip and stumble.

The serpent’s voice laughed at his prey.

Feeling him snake eyes on my back,

Those eyes that showed me my death.

The heavy steps of the predator gaining.

My breath tried to grasp air,

That was getting harder to accomplish.

Bushes, branches, and briars,

Licking themselves against my skin.

The sound of the gunshot,

Rang through my blood filled ears.

The sight of an exploding tree,

Gave me a preview of my end.

The glory of my luck,

Made me face the rustic brown mud.

My nostrils were filled with it,

My eyes blinded to the world.

A cold slender hand,

Rapped itself around my fragile neck.

The pain of the metal against my head,

Reminded me of the unfairness everywhere.

I turn my head with hesitance,

A twisted smile played on a pale face,

Hungry pale yellow eyes branded my soul.

The serpent’s tears were diamonds on my cheek.

“Olivia, you don’t want to play longer?”

The shot was suffocating,

As both the serpent and I were covered,

With a red ribbon that colored the soil.

Piercing pain shot through my shoulder.

The hand let go of his dying prey.

The mountain became spotted black.

My mind seemed to not work.

The blazing thought of a verse-

That the angel of my life-

Spoke it to me and I was immerse-

In warmth that rejected a long knife-

To hear not the song.

To feel not the silk.

To see not the warm faces.

To lose yourself to the blackness.

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