whisper

whisper

A Poem by joshua deathdealer
"

03/2013

"
There was this girl
whose shattered heart extended
from the slits in her wrist
to the bullet hole in her head

No piano notes could ever 
touch the depths of her sadness

No amount of makeup could
cover up her disease 

The issues that had been
swept under the rug eventually
choked her to death from the inside

With no where to turn
she turned to the blade

With no one left to hold
she held the gun

The walls she had built to hid behind
fell with the first cut

The lies she had been forced to believe in
disintegrated in front of the 45 caliber bullet
that tore through her brain

Her lifeless body fell into the thoughts and prayers
of well wishers everywhere, only to be forgotten
after a short parade through empty streets

Me, I will never forget her
sometimes I swear
I can still hear her whisper my name


© 2013 joshua deathdealer


Author's Note

joshua deathdealer
The Bridge of Sighs

One more Unfortunate,
Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!

Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashion'd so slenderly
Young, and so fair!

Look at her garments
Clinging like cerements;
Whilst the wave constantly
Drips from her clothing;
Take her up instantly,
Loving, not loathing.

Touch her not scornfully;
Think of her mournfully,
Gently and humanly;
Not of the stains of her,
All that remains of her
Now is pure womanly.

Make no deep scrutiny
Into her mutiny
Rash and undutiful:
Past all dishonour,
Death has left on her
Only the beautiful.

Still, for all slips of hers,
One of Eve's family—
Wipe those poor lips of hers
Oozing so clammily.

Loop up her tresses
Escaped from the comb,
Her fair auburn tresses;
Whilst wonderment guesses
Where was her home?

Who was her father?
Who was her mother?
Had she a sister?
Had she a brother?
Or was there a dearer one
Still, and a nearer one
Yet, than all other?

Alas! for the rarity
Of Christian charity
Under the sun!
O, it was pitiful!
Near a whole city full,
Home she had none.

Sisterly, brotherly,
Fatherly, motherly
Feelings had changed:
Love, by harsh evidence,
Thrown from its eminence;
Even God's providence
Seeming estranged.

Where the lamps quiver
So far in the river,
With many a light
From window and casement,
From garret to basement,
She stood, with amazement,
Houseless by night.

The bleak wind of March
Made her tremble and shiver;
But not the dark arch,
Or the black flowing river:
Mad from life's history,
Glad to death's mystery,
Swift to be hurl'd—
Anywhere, anywhere
Out of the world!

In she plunged boldly—
No matter how coldly
The rough river ran—
Over the brink of it,
Picture it—think of it,
Dissolute Man!
Lave in it, drink of it,
Then, if you can!

Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashion'd so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!

Ere her limbs frigidly
Stiffen too rigidly,
Decently, kindly,
Smooth and compose them;
And her eyes, close them,
Staring so blindly!

Dreadfully staring
Thro' muddy impurity,
As when with the daring
Last look of despairing
Fix'd on futurity.

Perishing gloomily,
Spurr'd by contumely,
Cold inhumanity,
Burning insanity,
Into her rest.—
Cross her hands humbly
As if praying dumbly,
Over her breast!

Owning her weakness,
Her evil behaviour,
And leaving, with meekness,
Her sins to her Saviour!

Thomas Hood

My Review

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Featured Review

Oh, this is hauntingly beautiful. And I'm sure more than one person could relate with this. I know I can, in my own way. Taunting with death because of society's inability to accept people for who they are. And then when you lose someone so harshly, so quickly, due to judgements made by people who are ignorant, is painful.
This is amazing work. Thanks for RR'ing it to me.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

You're character is really well developed and the ending pulls it together nicely!

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

it has been awhile since I visited your work joshua.. I wish I could write a comment worthy of it..

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Holy................damn hon...this shook me, well voiced x

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

A sad story in the poem. When people take their own life. Leave memories and in dreams their voices can be heard. Good description led the reader to the strong ending. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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860 Views
25 Reviews
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Shelved in 2 Libraries
Added on October 3, 2013
Last Updated on October 13, 2013
Tags: suicide, dark, death, poetry

Author

joshua deathdealer
joshua deathdealer

Casket City, FL



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"My trepidation of things past is not a song with a beginning, middle and end. But an endless symphony playing infinite variations on the same theme. One day of sadness fades into another and the .. more..

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