She Met the End After It Was Done This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

Her dry, skeletal limbs
Stretch wearily to the ceiling,
Exhibiting skin
Cracked and peeling
Under sickly, synthetic
Light; her weird grin,
Almost poetic,
But not quite worthy of mention,
Not a fitting expression
For her stance,
A gesture so pathetic.

She reaches toward heaven
With three earnest fingers,
Groping at nothing but
The spring heat which lingers
Of our warmest day in far too long;
She doesn't seem to acknowledge that,
However: she is pressed strong
By sorrows of the passing winter,
Few and flat,
But scar her still,
A silent silver throng.

Her hands are
Pleading for mercy, I finally realize,
And it is for
Her vague disguise
That I have had such hesitation
To give her assist;
For how to help a thing without manifestation
Of breath or movement,
Still struggling a struggle
With what does not exist,
A fatal fascination.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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Perfunctory said...
Mar. 13, 2011 at 11:31 pm
Beautiful (:
 
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