Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2010 · 553
Nine
Shanelle Benson Jul 2010
Another plane went down today in the Atlantic
Nine miles off shore

Eight black cars sped by my window
Not a single of them yours

Seven men brushed past me today
I turned momentarily, only to be denied

Six calls from friends and your family
All wondering where you're at

Five minutes of crying
Standing in the shower alone

Four of them spent staring at the wall
The cracks mesmerizing this close

Three children died in that crash
A little girl, two little boys

Two mothers as well
One holding on to her son, tightly

One man died along with them
A man I knew so well

Zero of you came home to me
All of you lost to death.
This was a prompt for school. We were given the first line and then we were suppose to go off that and create a narrative.
Jan 2010 · 563
War
Shanelle Benson Jan 2010
War
It’s true what they say, about war
It’s the rich who start it, those that suffer being the poor
We work our butts off from day to day
Only to spill a little more blood, for you to stay in the good old USA.

I personally have no time, for this pointless violence
All I ask of you is a simple minute of silence!
You know that fleeting minute, when no one’s in pain?
But then again, we don’t really know how to play that game.

No screaming, no yelling, no playing, no fighting,
Try to run away from it all, just like I did.
You won’t get far, trust me on that,
They’ll pull you back in, dragging you on your back.

Let’s put away the guns and accusations please,
Maybe it’s time we pay a little respect to the world we've made!
The world’s not ours for the taking that’s for sure,
But we’re the USA, so we’ll make it our goal anyway!

In the end, it’s not the battles you’ve triumphantly won
Not the people you’ve killed, or those you’ve over run.
It’s the times you’ve fallen, and gotten right back up,
It’s the one’s you’ve lost and successfully over come.
Jan 2010 · 990
Hope - Misleading
Shanelle Benson Jan 2010
The pain was now his existence, as he settled there to breathe,
No mortal would stop him from sinking beneath.
Too weak to get up and fight, too strong to try again,
To settle here and die, or to close his eyes and leave with them.

He had killed so many, and still kept his name,
The blood flowed beneath him, making him insane.
Ever weary with his own life, and glad they were that he came,
Now they suffer below him, at the pain he would not claim.

Now he feels dense, for the hellish screams he unleashed,
As he walks away, leaving the men he killed to bleed.
He smiles at the night, knowing he is alive,
Hoping in the end, the darkness will suffocate him from inside
Jan 2010 · 944
Creased
Shanelle Benson Jan 2010
Folded, unfolded, folded….
I will never have the choice of coming undone
Crashing, burning, and this relentless yearning
I have the privilege of seeing it all from within
Never stopping, never slowing,
Never breathing, never showing
I will no longer pretend, I will no longer look away
I am here to show you that I am going to stay.

Creased, uncreased, creased….
I am scared, frightened, and alone
Weak, no direction, no place to run to
No place to call home
No red slippers to tap away with
No yellow bricks to follow
I have no map, no compass, and no sense
And I'll face the fact that I will be lost in shadow.

Bent, unbent, bent….
I will do the right thing, some how
Knowing this, as I do, helps in the end
Makes it all clear, makes me mend
Always raining, never calm
Always screaming, never sleeping
I am no longer human, no longer whole
Always weak, never strong
Always right, never wrong…

— The End —