Loaded Camera

As per the usual, just another little piece that I write to get my emotions out on paper, or on screen. Hope you enjoy it.

Sit, listen, hear me scream,

Don't cover up your ears.

It's not just some bad dream,

You've been living it for years.

Stop, watch, see me burn,

You just can't look away.

Such a sight, much to learn,

Why not enjoy the heat and stay?

If I don't fall here, regardless,

There is little left to do.

You point your camera and fire away,

Snapshot number two.

The third will pierce my chest, now,

A flash, and now I'm done.

These photos have gotten grisly,

But we've still got shot number one.

So, stand, smell, bear the reek,

The stench will cling for years.

Wipe my ash from off your cheek,

But don't shed any tears.

Lash out, punch, feel the bones,

They crack with every blow.

Hit send on your telephone,

And let your anger go.

I've fallen here regardless,

Forgotten on the floor.

But my body breaks with cellphone takes,

Snapshot number four.

My heart now lays in pieces,

The wound, it slowly drips,

But my consciousness has faded,

By snapshot number six.

Please, help, taste the fear,

As my hand drops to my side.

I thank god that at least you're here,

I'll be fine, I softly lied.

When I wake up, I'm a baby,

The sounds too loud to bear.

I can see a crying lady,

Snapshot one is taken there.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

falling apart, but having someone there...like reading this poem and seeing a snapshot of ourselves---
interesting piece...introspection and yet for the reader inspection and introspection combined...

we often profess to be fine...even when we are not...i like the last stanza being snapshot one...