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Emily Anne Jun 2011
When the UV kicked in
there was sweat on her palms,
So she threw the shovel down;
she'd been working for too long.

Lying right beside her
was a body that was dead,
And as a tear slipped down her cheek she thought
"we could have been friends."

She was left with a hole,
she'd dug it 13 feet deep,
Just so that the body would have
a soundless place to sleep.

Then she picked the body up,
smearing blood on her hands,
And she dropped it 13 feet,
down to its quiet bed of sand.

She gazed at the body with
the spear through its chest,
With just a shovel and no fear,
the devil was impressed.

Then she took her ****** hands
and flattened out the ground,
envisioning the body's screams,
cringing at the sound.

She stood up and stepped back,
defining the word brave,
While 13 letters in the sand read,
"I am love's grave."
Emily Anne Jun 2011
Dear God, please be patient, this is my first prayer.
I don't know if you're listening, but I just want you to care.

Dear God, tell me the truth, can you hear me breathe?
Help me turn my sighs into sighs of relief.

Dear God, I need your help to define the word 'me'.
Its just that you know me so well, and I've forgotten how to see.

Dear God, I really need you, and I don't mean to ask much,
But things aren't the same as when I used to be enough.

Dear God, I don't get it. What does my skin justify?
People hate my color, but I just don't get why.

Dear God, can't he come home? I know I ask that all the time,
But if all my friends have daddies, why can't I have mine?

Dear God, make them stop. Hush these cruel voices.
Turn their curvy daggers into more pleasant noises.

Dear God, help me now. He's the one who said forever.
How many tears will it take to make it better?

Dear God, will you tell me where this prayer is going?
I don't want to pray to nothing without even knowing.

Dear God, send me a sign, let me know it's all real.
With the way things are lately, I don't know what to feel.

Dear God, where's the path? Every road has an ending.
I try to see a path but nothing good comes from pretending.

Dear God, I'm still here, still suffering on this earth.
I'm representing all the prayers of your silly broken world.

— The End —