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Lauren Leal Sep 2017
I remember how this feels
All of myself simply kneels
To recover from lost time
That's why I write in rhyme
Such a cliche write
But I will do what is right
It's time to focus one me
Hmm what to be
Should I just party
Or go to college and be tardy
Hungover from a night of words
Not to sing, chose the birds
I'll pick myself up from the dirt
Or this will just continue to hurt
Murderer
they called me
Murderess...

to take a life
into my pale,
sculptured hands

to mix bone
and blood
into a thick
paste

to shatter the heart
of a mother, herself
reaching into the
abyss in fear of

nothingness.

I did not tremble
from top to toe

my back arched, catlike
sensing danger

where there was only
love, taken from me

beaten, burnt, corrupted
until only this shell

remained.

I take God into account,
hold him to his word,
beg him to remember
that night when I was

six

when heaven and hell
mixed as my mouth
filled with sweat
and blood

the taste of fear
caressing my lips

murderous,

the shadow on the wall,
the whistle of wind
through long hair

I take, plunder, delve
into fields of red
Poppy's

remberence

dear God,
remember me
El Oct 2018
I dug through boxes
Time capsules
Boxes taped,  sealed
With memories
Simple how memories
Are reactived
With tactile sensory
A transportation to
Times of emotional growth
Distressing times
Hoarder of lost time
Remberence of my
Path

— The End —