Four Letter Sword
The word hate,
even worst than an awful blind date.
When she yelled it at me I felt like I was once again eight,
no, that's a lie. I felt like a bunch of dead-weight.
I felt cold,
numb, not a drop of bold.
That word was replying and couldn't be untold,
my throat felt like it was in an invisible choke-hold.
My heart was hurt,
I felt like a huge pile of dirt.
My soul, oh was it cold like a frozen dessert.
I'm still looking for a word to replace that one, so I could be unhurt.
__________________________________________________________________________________
I got into poetry a few months back, but I fell in love with a poem in seventh grade. I was in this after school program that would talk to us about physical violence against women, a topic that intrigued me to the maximum point. We had homework that day, the homework being that the next day we had to bring a poem, song or essay about domestic violence and I printed out a poem with the name I got flowers today. This poem made me very emotional and very intrigued to search up more poems that have deep messages like this one. The poem I submitted was a class assignment for my American Literature class, and I took advantage to writing a poem that was about my life, about a moment that had recently occurred, an experience that left me like an open sore, a fragile sore that was waiting to be sewed back together. Poetry to me is a way out of issues, problems that I have no control over, but I can control my poems. I am able to control the message that is written within my poem, the way I write them, the way I see them.
👁 5💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
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.