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Lucid Class
September 7, 2012
Why am I here
In this class?
The chalkboard
Makes tears.
When I think of you
I die inside.
My arms are dead
As if of lethal injection
Or so it seems.
Eye is dry
Nose twitches
A cold breeze
Across my face.
And now someone else
Is speaking aloud
Why, if your voice
Makes me weep?
I feel like crying
For the thought
Of your torn
And mangled body.
© Molly L., Phoenix, AZ
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This article has 1 comment.
SebastianHennessy SILVER said...
on Sep. 21 2012 at 1:24 pm
this is a well writen peom keep it up
