Memories

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Memories

 Deep in thought,
but no satisfaction,
I have to breathe,
have to take action.
The bullet slows down
as it nears my head,
I wake up crying and shrieking in bed.
The night of her death puts me in depression.
She never even answered
 my one only question.
I stall my room
like a starving creature.
I don't understand why I can't reach her.
Death reaches out
and I finally reach back.
"Is it finally time?"
But I already know the answer.

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Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

Lissi’s Poems (5)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Island Full of Us 0
Gone 0
"Samantha" 0
Feeling 0
Memories 0

Lissi’s Friends (1)