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Vivian Miller Jun 2010
Your father looked down dresses while sitting in church
But he was beat with a belt for not abiding God's words
And while kneeling by your broken bed you cast a wasted curse
That only silenced all the town's pretty song birds
Your cousin touched your lips with fingers soaked in wax
While mom and dad were fighting the kitchen table fell to flames
You cleaned it with an ax
And your cousin left in shame
Mother took you to the carnival to help you to forget
She dragged you by the wrist and let a clown drink your thoughts
On your hands you did sit
And they used your dreams as their props
You yelled at the ***** and ran the dusty road home
You found your father dead but rich
You made his grave of rusted chrome
Vivian Miller May 2010
He watched her from across the street
She let the dishes pile up but always washed her sheets
He knocked on her door at midnight one time
He needed a bible for last seconds, so he gave her a dime
All she could find was her mother's lucky penny
So she prayed for his soul and she didn't pray for many
He came to her clean bed through her door jam the next day
She was uncertain why she had stayed
When he left he kissed her over the windowsill with splinters in his lips
She didn't kiss him back and he pulled at her hips
She spit in his mouth and drew blood from his tongue
So he fled quickly, and escaped with air in one lung
She shot arrows with her eyes from over her kitchen sink
She hit him in the back while he was sipping a strong drink
He drowned in his blood with glass still in hand
She burned his house down and cursed the ashy land
They took her away with silver around her wrists
But even naked behind bars, up her sleeves were still tricks
Vivian Miller May 2010
She had a burn in the crinkle of her right eye
Someone threw a cigarette out the window when she walked by
So she wore glasses with thick frames to hide her scar
She spends every night in a glass in the corner of a bar
To fix her would take only a needle and thread
But no one can see the end so they just leave her for dead
One morning she lay crucified on the sidewalk by the school
No one saw her or stepped over her, she is such a little fool
So they nabbed her in church and slipped her out the back
And stepped on every crack
Until she opened her mouth  in agony and pain
When they shot her by the river they knew the bullet was in vain
She was already slain
Vivian Miller May 2010
In small towns where nothing ever happens is where it all begins
Suburban neighborhoods and televisions in their adolescent bedrooms
**** on their internet  screens
Is where they were taught to love the sound of screams
When they were told to croshay they learned to tie knots
When we gave them a toy gun their mind's eye learned the perfect shot
Maybe when they were strung out on ***** they saw what we all really want
To not be alone in the front
They each had a curse
And the war made it worse
When they came back from hell their lives could never begin
Because they knew how lives end
Now they are lawyers, doctors, nurses, and crooks
But at night they take children, husbands and wives, and carve out and eat their insides
Vivian Miller Apr 2010
She had bruises running up the back of her knees
They were from the beggars and losers clawing at her lying in the streets
She wore a corset to keep from falling apart
She used butter on her hands because her skin was made of bark
But she was soft
Soft spoken and kind
She was young, though her face was lined
She navigated her way around the mess of broken souls
She walked fast as if walking on hot coals
When she made it to the march she changed into black
The protestors proceeded avoiding every crack
In the road rode the army
On horses made of steel
They were called to stumble over those who were denied a last meal
On a dark street those dressed in black
Met the army, their horses shoes met pavement with a smack
She slid to the back of the line because she wasn't bullet proof
A sign slapped the side of her face, on it was written the truth
Though she was surrounded by tall men with top hats on their heads
For whatever reason with the first shot she lay dead
Vivian Miller Apr 2010
Kids were disappearing in a small town in Texas
Their bodies before buried were washed to be cleanest
They were found in the woods by the local authorities
They blamed their deaths on ancient horror stories
Mr. Eckles was a ***** old man who lived in a house on the hill
From his room he could watch the children play, and bide his time, leaning on his window sill
His body was found in a bear trap covered with leaves
It was led to by the buzzing meat beas and fleas
One last little girl would go missing before the killer was caught
And by the time he was snared their bodies had begun to rot
She followed him into the woods even though she was young
He was trusted, with red hair and freckles her praises he sung
At the age of eight he was killing with a baseball bat
And when they found him he admitted to all of it
He will miss elementary and junior high school
He will be thrown into life still a young little fool
Vivian Miller Apr 2010
She walked across the tracks and her foot stuck snug
It hurt at her ankle so she thought of soft rugs
She slid her foot out but it broke and spilled on the road
A puppy walked out to drink up the blood with the tongue of a toad
She heard the train coming, so limped out of its path
But the puppy was sipping her blood, and was hit with the train's mighty wrath
There wasn't a sound as the pup was swept up from the tracks
And when the train rolled past there wasn't even left a scratch
The road was without a trace
Of blood or of fur it was without space
No one remembered but the hurt girl's broken ankle
Swollen and purple
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