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Literature Text
I watched her close her eyes to the bars, and padded walls,
And a smile fluttered across her cracked lips,
She had the crazy eyes; I'd heard about
Throughout worthless years in secondary school,
They were nearly white at times, When her
Teeth were bared, a low rumble, escaping
Her broken chest. Her cheeks had a constant,
Candy apple Flush, more from anger,
Than embarrassment. I wonder sometimes,
If she remembered the world outside,
The grey skies, clinging dirty fog,
Smog and the freedom to breathe in a
Thousand pollutants in a single gasp.
Occasionally, her eyes were the fawn and blue,
I knew from my childhood, and she
Curled up in the corner, Unaware,
Singing lullabies about the stars we've
since destroyed.
A683. That's what her wrist told us
She was called, I pressed my scarred palm
Against the glass between us,
A moment of recognition,
Flickering through crazy eyes,
Away I walked, my left eye drooping,
Scars curling up my legs, fully on
display, Replacing the flames,
[the gasoline, and matches]
That my sister cursed me with.
And a smile fluttered across her cracked lips,
She had the crazy eyes; I'd heard about
Throughout worthless years in secondary school,
They were nearly white at times, When her
Teeth were bared, a low rumble, escaping
Her broken chest. Her cheeks had a constant,
Candy apple Flush, more from anger,
Than embarrassment. I wonder sometimes,
If she remembered the world outside,
The grey skies, clinging dirty fog,
Smog and the freedom to breathe in a
Thousand pollutants in a single gasp.
Occasionally, her eyes were the fawn and blue,
I knew from my childhood, and she
Curled up in the corner, Unaware,
Singing lullabies about the stars we've
since destroyed.
A683. That's what her wrist told us
She was called, I pressed my scarred palm
Against the glass between us,
A moment of recognition,
Flickering through crazy eyes,
Away I walked, my left eye drooping,
Scars curling up my legs, fully on
display, Replacing the flames,
[the gasoline, and matches]
That my sister cursed me with.
Literature
Igbok
To the girl who's "okay"
With the run-away father
Of the baby she's hiding
With goodwill and shame,
You're not alone.
To the boy who's "okay"
With the bumps and the names
And the scars on his wrist
That still won't go away,
You're not alone.
To the girl who's "okay"
With despising herself
Because she's knows she's not strong enough
To starve anymore,
You're not alone.
To the boy who's "okay"
As the voices grow louder
Because soon he'll give in to them
Without feeli
Literature
Engineering Eggshells
He knew that "I love you" also means "I love you more than anyone loves you, or has loved you, or will love you," and also, "I love you in a way that no one loves you, or has loved you, or will love you," and also, "I love you in a way that I love no one else, and never have loved anyone else, and never will love anyone else."
--Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated
Kathrine had said "I love you" too soon, which terrified Ty because it wasn't supposed to be done like this. It was either the seventh or eighth time they'd been out together and she just came out with it as they folded their laundry side-by-side. It was either desper
Literature
Poetry by Korial Fox
Seventh Element
Water could be calm and stormy,
Never flows the way it seems,
Always caring and acts so friendly,
With great courage guards it's dreams.
Burning with great hope and desire,
Warming and beloved friend,
Always shy and blushing, that's fire,
It will be with you to the end.
Wings of freedom, wind wants to fly,
Person afraid of showing it's smile,
Tries reach the stars and touch the sky,
Walking on a path of endless mile.
Happy, by nature playful heart,
In peace grows very slowly,
Earth knows, it's very smart,
It never makes others feel lonely.
Like brightest sun light shines to you,
Leads those who are lost on ri
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Comments20
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Overall Vision Originality Technique ImpactStumbling upon this... my mind intriguingly flusters at how someone so close by only the escaping world leaves not just so empty eyed but hollowing to the victim.. I do believe we can all understand the writer's traumatic and painstaking scene -- a face remembered may reflect no more than that of which what it has become and only for mere moments can we see into their eyes to the spaces in between us.
I think you've written it beautifully and the imagery just teases me to keep reading. May she rest well in the asylum and may we hope she recovers.