Paled brown eyes seared by a twilight dusk,
uncaring spasms occupy a motherly husk.
The white stick filled with a narcotic herb
soon reality borderlines the insane and absurd.
Not a word in edge ways, "She's not being herself"
You think I don't know that? Get this woman some help...
It seems that the slightest ache and pain that I may have,
results in a trip to the doctors...the lunatics rehab.
What part of "I don't need it." Does she not understand?
Not the slightest hint of mutiny without strong reprimand.
An ice cold hand, interrupts the music flowing
from my fingertips, the mother-husk, not realizing my knowing.
She disturbs the simple peace of life, my own inner rhythm,
to try and tell me it was her, from whom my inner gift was given.
Waves of tangles sheets echo a water mattress set,
the mother-husk reveals her shape, lest we all forget.
A contest entry
- i dont know by VerminVomit.
702 points, ended September 14, 2008, 72 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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i like it...
the rhymes are really good
"An ice cold hand, interrupts the music flowing" is the best part
and the overall poem is pretty good -
I loved this! You did a great job! I would say more, I just can't think of anything to say. But I liked it and the flow was great!!! I kinda rapped it in my mind, it sounded something like one to me I don't. I'm weird but great job!
-Faded
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