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The Making of Scars: Part I

andrew delapruch Avatar    Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled The Making of Scars: Part I which was written by poet andrew delapruch. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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The Making of Scars: Part I

Faster than a speeding bullet & 
into the world she came,

                                                              popped from the cannon, faster
                                                              than a spinning weather vane &

in the midst of the madness, the
hysteria of it all, she

                                                              had a mother whose brother snapped &
                                                              dropped the ball,

this is how the story of the scarring 
begins,

                                                              quick as a whistle, without reason 
                                                              or the illusion of “sin”

& the formative years came just as 
quickly as they went,

                                                              the pet cat was found smothered in a  
                                                              hot ceiling vent,

a child in her kindergarten was threatened 
with a fork &

                                                              the teacher who witnessed it wouldn’t 
                                                              blame it on the stork,

and the counselors moaned in tandem &
so it was agreed,

                                                              off to the mhu for sweet Emily,

there, like any prisoner, she learned worse 
stories than her own,

                                                              she learned that there were plenty amongst her 
                                                             who’d she simply couldn’t know,

she saw the fragility & the damage, the
irresponsibility of humankind,

                                                             she saw the early garbage bin where we get placed                  
                                                             before we end up incarcerated or fried,

she grew sadder, not better, she found no 
consolation prize,

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