The Final Lullaby

My Personal Explanation Behind the Poem: Most students associate poetry with Robert Frost's gorgeous application of imagery. The warmth we feel, the scenery we sense when we read such eloquent and elaborate words. However, Frost's relationship with words has failed to exhibit the truth about life. While his vivacious stories have transported readers to another world and to the "happy places," but I wanted to compose a poem that would reveal the raw feelings of humanity, the sharp weapon of our tongue, and the unconditional love of a parent to her child. The feeling of loss, the genuine anguish. This final lullaby exemplifies this love and my motivation to amend current bullying laws and the intervention of teenagers and their involvement in what leads us away from life.

                                                ********************

He was forgotten, excluded, waiting amongst this crowd. She was taken for granted, shattered, torn from the inside out. They were loveless, broken, a candle in the wind, what happens now? Disrespected, regretting eighteen months it's been? Always excluded from the game you're dying to be in. 

So you take a sip of caramel colored pain and suffering, you swallow that down. They took blows twenty two times over and over again, what happens now? You conceal it all along with your insufficience and grief. You keep replaying your vulnerability in your head. You swallow it down with the tears you bleed. But Baby, please remember you're a precious one, letting your smile come undone, with their demeaning words intoxicating. But when sticks and stones break your bones, I'll be waiting. 

She was destructive, disposed of, at the hands of the unrighteous. He was silenced, injured, and only focused on the harm handed over by the lifeless. They were blinded, delicate, believing the implausible, this happens how? Disregarded, regretting eighteen years has it been? Sensitive to the world around you; depriving yourself to fit in. 

Don't let those words be demons in your head, for if you do, your emotions and perceptions will be misled. Don't be misleading, since no one can properly tell-- your heart is breaking and you're enduring hell. 

So you took a handful of what could take the pain and suffering, and you swallow that down-- you took too many to conceal, so you slept safe and sound. You bled out the unknown hurting and your rage left on your wrists, obviously your demons made you forget your younger bliss. But as you let yourself go without saying goodbye, I just want to let you know in this lullaby: Baby, please remember you're a precious one, once vibrant and happy without disparage done. The pain, I guess, was too intoxicating. So I suppose, now, you're the one waiting.

Sold short and remembered, but for all the wrong things. Since the potential in yourself you didn't see, but rather the deception you let yourself believe. Comments that scarred you on your wrist and your head, forgot what I told you; letting your path be cut short instead. 

Baby, you're still my precious one and I count the days 'til I see you again, you fell apart in my naïve arms like a statue made of grains of sand. Now I know you concealed your demons, but you were an angel to me. You may have lived hell on earth, but I know it is heaven you see. You always found yourself falling down, feeling as though you were less, and even though you regretted those eighteen years, those I loved the best.