The Growth That Will Never Be PlantedA Poem by temperanceThe hurt, the pain, The saddening birthright I plan to own, Will live on my shoulders and Leap, leap Onto others and others. Harsh metal of a gun Will not ever touch my head, For all the work I’ve done Will be Erased And replaced, With the image of two genres, Horror and gore. Ugly is not how I Wish to be remembered. Cold metal of a gun Will not ever touch my chin, My soft chin that holds many strengths, And secrets; For the terror in tears, And the shock of a thousand stabs Will resin In the pit of mother’s eyes, and heart. And- Suffer will grow, Strong and surviving onto Others and others of coworkers and mothers, Who’s weak minds and hearts Will allow of the expansion, though Their wishes may be hiding under covers. © 2015 temperance
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1 Review Added on October 12, 2015 Last Updated on October 12, 2015 Author
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