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Those Cruel Years

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I bet,
you were the one they picked on
in grade school.
Pale from the cold,
Unattractive hand-me-down covering
Mottled, faded.
Barren and flat.
Bony fingers reaching.
Glasses too.
Always fogged up,
Always crying.
Loud though,
an alarm of life
after so much silence.
You had to clean up
what he left behind.
He was ruthless.
So cold.
Your skin cracked
from feeble attempts
of man holding him back.
Brushing off
what's left of him.
In the mornings,
when he sneaked in.
You screamed and glared.
It took him a few weeks
to realize
he was done.
But come puberty,
and everything blossomed.
But I leave your latter months to the romantics.



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VoiceOfStars said...
Mar. 23, 2010 at 11:20 am
Beautiful poem
Touches my sensative spot. xD
Love it
 
midnight_compositions said...
Mar. 20, 2010 at 4:23 pm
Very unique and beautifully written. The structure and the word choice make a great impact... 5/5
 
CaitlinPaige said...
Mar. 19, 2010 at 7:44 pm
love the concept to this piece
 
pilotp3 replied...
Mar. 19, 2010 at 10:27 pm
haha thanks!
 
CaitlinPaige replied...
Mar. 19, 2010 at 10:56 pm
your welcome =)
 
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