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Not guilty

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Nail splitting pain

The color tide crosses over iris

Petrified I stand trying to watch all walls and failing

Guarded. They stand watch over me whispering edging closer

Flapping wings they peck peck peck at me like crows on rotted flesh-

My fists bang bang bang interrupted offenses against the force-

Crumpled in, knees tucked, fingers dancing over red yarn that hangs:

It keeps coming out like scarves from a magicians robe,

My blood is choked blue weeping down my forehead.

Eyelid,

Cheek,

Chin.

It creates a puddle of indigo paint I smear on these prison walls.

Pulling myself back, I admire these beauties.

These statements I have made no eye who seeks color can overlook,

and While the trial repeats, repeats, repeats, with the never changing verdict,

The unfaltering faith in the almighty judgement: unfallible,

Seeps traces of sunlight through the cracks for comfort,

Sends songful winds to sing loud outside the walls,

Will seek me when my time comes to innocently fly free.

"Not guilty."

Comments (3)

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You are inspired, this poem can only be written from a womans prospective with a torn heart, but you have exhalted your emotions with depth, these are not words but a human painting of present pain and hope, your brush strokes are painting a...

You are inspired, this poem can only be written from a womans prospective with a torn heart, but you have exhalted your emotions with depth, these are not words but a human painting of present pain and hope, your brush strokes are painting a pound, pound, pounding in my soul- You've always had it in you, and tragically this is a poets gift- sharing darkness where you wish only light. Thanks for the human touch. Danny.

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Vangoman
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This touches me. Thx

wickedwahine_69
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A poem is only good when It moves something in someone else, and it seems only good poems are created from tangible emotions. Thanks. Leslee

Uniquely...Disfunctional
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