Mourning After

Wed, 10/31/2018 - 11:42 -- jmfro

It was a brisk autumn morning

When I woke up to tears

It drowned me without warning

And bleed my ears with fears

 

What caused the weeping I wondered

When did the woe flow in this waterfall

Why was this woman uncolored?

Where did they make this life-like doll?

 

It was no mirror but she looked quite familiar

As my mother shook it screaming it had no tune

Sister seems touched the doll and began to shiver

Everyone in the room werewolves calling the moon

 

How could a doll cause such woe?

I questioned till I saw the wrist below

The art I created with my razor

Had lost the paint to the blanket caper

 

I smiled, then I laughed at the irony

My wrist colored red to relieve the isolation

Yet here they are, woven in this agony

All because I gave into stupid temptation

 

I’m sorry; I’m sorry

I began to weep

I thought I opened the door to relieve

But all I did was let in remorseful grief

  

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
Our world

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