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poetry_fictionDay 8:
She just stared at me
as if she didn't understand.
But she did.
She gave up the Emerald City
for a memory.
Day 9:
If you suffer in the grave,
you can kill from it.
Day 10:
Sorrow had never knocked on my door
and if it had, I wouldn't have answered.
Day 11:
Lord have mercy, I'm still alive, I thought,
As I floated into the street beside the body of someone familiar,
Day 12:
It simply put on a new mask
and now it feeds off fear
that is mostly justified
Day 13:
They call me a cruel sonofabitch
just to aggravate me,
but my strength is the truth.
Day 14:
Those scissors you wielded like a surgeon
cut away that version of me
and now you don't know who I am
She just stared at me
as if she didn't understand.
But she did.
She gave up the Emerald City
for a memory.
Day 9:
If you suffer in the grave,
you can kill from it.
Day 10:
Sorrow had never knocked on my door
and if it had, I wouldn't have answered.
Day 11:
Lord have mercy, I'm still alive, I thought,
As I floated into the street beside the body of someone familiar,
Day 12:
It simply put on a new mask
and now it feeds off fear
that is mostly justified
Day 13:
They call me a cruel sonofabitch
just to aggravate me,
but my strength is the truth.
Day 14:
Those scissors you wielded like a surgeon
cut away that version of me
and now you don't know who I am
