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

The shadow that covered me


The shadow that covered me Shattered windows glistening in the summer sun Light that forms into shadow due to my father's liquor and his favorite sunday rum This overcast covers me with pangs and distress Leaving me bruises as though this hurricane left me with nothing, not even my name Stepping into this black hole That leads me to a broken place... Broken,broken into fine damped soil soil that fertilize and scattered along side my mother's grave What is this place? I feel so at ease I want to reminisce back to the time Momma told me she loved me Before she took her last breath... I told her "please,please dont leave me" ... A few hours later... "beep,beep ,beep" that sound of that machine was louder than the time my father came home drunk and decided to beat me In tears I shouted "come back this was just a bad dream, everything was going to be alright momma, just believe me." Why does this seem so familiar? Like I entered a time machine Going back in time as if this world was againsted me. The imagin that overcast me The noise that is stuck with me Listen,I hear a noise, a flickering screech One that can make the hair on your back stand. Its the sound of.. Falling floors,open doors, mirrors of faces, and bazarre places. Where am I?who am I? This is not me... I don't deserve this illusion that my father implanted in me. Fake smile and laugh is now all behind me. I want to live a life the way it should be.
©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Submitted to a slam

“Slam Against Bullying”

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.

Your Poem's Voice

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

Comments (0)

Comments are closed for this poem.