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Black Pervades (Everything)

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Yesterday, the moon dripped through my eyes,
instead of her saltwater crocodile tears,
laced with silver heartfelt lies.

They shoved him in a silver little box,
and strangers cut open his heart, his lungs
before his eyes got used to the dark and before
his body got used to being sad and less angry

when they cut him open, will he see? will he cry?

Today, my blood is ice, hardening to my core,
instead of the box that is her heart,
empty and insipid

they want me to say that it doesn’t bother me
or they want me to show something other than
a blank
face
but i don’t
i can’t
i --

tomorrow they want me to stand in front
of his terrified, corrupted body, full of
nothing but bitter, dour sobs

they will make me bleed the moon through my eyes
over this thing that can’t have happened,
then they will bury him in his best clothes
under six feet of dirt and flowers
and amalgamated, grieving air.

Later, it will rain real tears
and a rainbow will kill it all
showing that everything
will continue
will be okay
will be where it is supposed
to be

our souls are on fire,
but all we’re crying are these different tears.




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This article has 2 comments. Post your own!

EmmaClaire0823This teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
today at 10:09 am:
I really love this poem. The idea of the moon as tears is genius. If I were to change anything it would be "and less angry." It just seems to disrupt the poem in my opinion. Your poem has so much figurative language that just coming out right and saying that feels wrong. And instead of saying less angry you could put maybe joyful or something. Great great job overall though!
 
haley101This teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. replied...
today at 8:53 pm :
you're right about the abruptness of that, but I think it was something that maybe needs to be phrased different. my grandpa was very angry a lot, and dying with so many regrets is something that I could see him get even more angry about. but how to write it, not sure. and thanks, i used that figurative language as my losing sleep being the way that I grieve.
 
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