PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Bed Springs


I see dead people. 

Population: 1. 

But there's more on the inside 

More voices in that mind

Climbing for the principal's chair, it turns the others mute and says 

"Listen girl" 

And says 

Loudly 

"Watch" 

I see a movie. 

It plays back in my mind and when I think I'm at the worst part, it skips to the end. 

Briefly.

Rewinds, and plays again. 

I see a girl. 

She's swinging and kicking her legs like she's about to take off

And her daddy's snapping photos 

And she can't see her mama 

But she can feel her hands 

Every swing that wedding ring makes a dent in her shirt 

And then she flys. 

I see memories. 

I hear bed springs hot with adultry and 

I think "Listen" 

But I should have plugged my ears 

I felt the palm of my hand push that door 

And I think "Watch"

And I regret it. 

And I run. 

And run.

And run. 

And I think mama, daddy, where did it go wrong? 

And when my legs aren't on my body 

I'm flying 

Till I sit down on that swing 

Rewind the movie, watch again

Legs swinging like sacks of blood 

Thinking I'd change it if I could 

And my lunch flys out of my mouth onto my favorite swing 

Till I run to the bathroom 

Wipe my face 

Grab the sink 

I see dead people. 

I see me. 

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Submitted to a slam

“Slam Behind the Curtain Scholarship -- CLOSED”

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

TheRumBook

Hi all! I'm Sophie, but my favorite person/creative writing teacher says that I MUST go by the name "Soflow" when I do spoken word... Yes, "flow," not "flo," as in South Florida, though I do abide there. Anyway, I've written some awful junk (I can tell you that!) all my life, but now that I'm a high school senior, it's pretty good, in my opinion. I'll explain myself the same way I do on Wattpad (username iMunsterCookiez because I made it eons ago): The Rum Book is a real thing in my life, and as a journal it's beautiful. It literally stands for something I can put anything and everything into, yet the beauty of it is that it is welcome to others and their sentiments. If anything I write offends you, you're more than welcome to lecture me. Argue me. Standing up is one thing that keeps us all alive, so by all means show me a piece of yourself. Unless you're telling me that you're righter than I am. In that case, go screw yourself.

View all poems →

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.