Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2014
She's whispering history in my ear
I think it's meant to inspire
To reveal light or
To make me succumb with fear

I never listen to history talkers
I assume they are all liars
Because their are the only voice
In the room

Ill give their words my heart
It's been kicked, stabbed, dosed
With a fifth of kerosene and lit
By the flame of a fresh match

Torn, beat, spat on, shattered
And built back up again

Yes
They can do whatever they desire to my heart
It's seen, heard, and felt it all before
But they will never recognize my mind
My mind will never falter
Michael Chandler
Written by
Michael Chandler  Chicago
(Chicago)   
498
   Maman Screams
Please log in to view and add comments on poems