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(read forward, then backward, line by line)

I ran.
Not knowing what else to do
There was so much blood on my hands
It was mine
The kitchen knife
Caught in my chest
Guilt
Consumed by
Fear
I was heightened by
Adrenaline
But running on
Wasn’t enough
While trying to stay calm,
Losing control
It was me that would end up
Dead. Because
He was
In front of me
The whole time
It was too late
Trapped
I found myself
Locked in chains
My fate was
Death.
Forward: from the victims perspective.
Backward: from the murderers perspective.

This TOOK ME FOREVER TO WRITE
sometimes i feel too much
sometimes i feel too little
i wish i could stay in that happy place
that lies right in the middle

when i feel too much
it's a torrent of emotion
a downpour of epic proportion
and i pray for it to end

yet when it does i don't feel enough
i'm numb, frozen, depressed.
I then pray for this to end
and i'd do anything to feel again

so i'm stuck in this happy limbo
never feeling quite right
like goldilocks in the three bear's house
i can't sleep at night
 Aug 2017 Mary E Zollars
simo
i met my fate as the orange grass met the sky
while i stood coddled up in sunlight, studious to some remnant of hope, either frequent or terminal

i sat cradled in tears screaming, speak or swallow me up
but perhaps the words came in sleep, or the bottom of my coffee cup
dripping into my sleep and bursting from buds
music to my ears or the flowers growing in love

i met my fate at the edge of the suburbs, when i disappeared into my head, barefoot and hungry, dashing into forests, so numb, holding my weight in heavy rising lungs.
i was fading, perpetual, my own burning constant.
haunted and gaunt, and hardly ever conscious

i met fate on the edge of chance, of a good luck charm. of a missing someone.
i met fate in the words tangled in tongue
where all you sing is unsung

and if you can't walk, you'll run

— The End —