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Alexis A Sep 2014
I said I was walking on glass
You took me seriously
And asked me to stop
You told me to think
Of other ways to deal
With the crisis at home
And the pain I feel
I said it was figurative
What are you talking about
I chuckled to myself
Because I'd actually do that
But I'm fine
Just not at home
'Cause I'm walking on glass
But not literally
This conversation between me and a friend amused me, so I turned it into a poem, and made it something that I could process my thoughts and emotions into
Daylight 4U2C May 2014
The iron drips from my fingers.
The man gives out a yell.
The child launches, she launches at me.
Sadly her launch had failed.
I chuckled at her, with no pity.
Her frightened face, what a laugh.
The person she’s crying for isn't worth dying for.
After all,
he was a bad man.
It’s funny, so funny, funny the fact.
The fact, she thought if she grabbed my neck then,
maybe, just maybe, maybe I’d die.
I laughed again and finally, I gave out a sigh.
“Poor child,” I said my voice left unchanged.
“You misunderstood. I shouldn't be ashamed.
Your idol has done so many bad things,
now he’ll pay for his sins of adultery,
in a place which this blind man cannot see.
She fell to the ground befalling her tears.
This was the end of her happy years.
What? Did she think it was a fairy tale life?
Reality is sharp, just like a knife.
I laughed at the fact I took his life,
with just one swing of my most dull scythe.

— The End —