Poet#21 - "Untitled"


If you never wanted to watch
my house burn down,
that is, if you're alone enough
to get lost out there,
take a seat and wait for me.

As people walk by,
tell them a lie.
Wait for smoke to settle.
Leave with the sunrise.
Don't watch, don't meddle.

Rednezvous with my Gyno,
don't sift through ashes,
and ask what happened.
You won't be told what I know-
of mental/emotional lashes.

A brief history lesson afterwords.
We'll compare his words
with the doctors-
those bastards-
and my own testimony.

My grandmother was disheveled,
unlike the others-
and cried into the night.
Until her father came home,
a doctor, an angel- that's right.

With poison on his tongue,
he ravaged a practice-
giving reason and excuse.
Without any doubt,
we women felt used and abused.

You may not see bruises,
but I see them all.
Scratches, and snot,
and vomitting in a pot-
I am afflicted with it all.

These times feel like bombs-
an explosion sending me gaping wide
into the ocean.
But I have an idea, and a thought-
a sickly tear jerking notion.

If I burn down my home,
his spirit will go with it.
But as hard as I try,
memories won't fade-
as I burn, as I die.










The End

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