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Best Poems Written by Essie Wixs

Below are the all-time best Essie Wixs poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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It's Ironic That It's Called the Throne

bowed before you once again
i’m worshipping you 
when i said i wouldn’t 

bent in half
i’m surrendering both my dinner 
and my fears

knelt down before you
my legs tremble 
my hands and chin drip

hunched over you
i am obedient
under your tyrannical rules 

there will be no revolution today

Copyright © Essie Wixs | Year Posted 2020



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Stars

Mind like an acrobat
She sways precariously back 
and forth with the constant influx of travelers
Who never seem to stay more than a night
Part with their cynical phrases
And compare her to a trapeze

She is the calico feline that hides
In the woodpile for fear of being known
The nights have long since turned frigid
The aroma of death
Is what gives her away
Too late now to be saved

Imperfections in the sky 
Draw weary eyes to gaze upon them
Amplified in the freckles on her face
Pinpricks on the vast unknown
Flaming balls of unknown chaos
Look like stars to the naked eye

Copyright © Essie Wixs | Year Posted 2020

Details | Essie Wixs Poem

Similes For An Apathetic Perspective

the words sting on the way down
burn my throat 
like tequila without a chaser
and slosh in the belly of my soul

"I don't want you anymore"

awaken the dull ache
salt the wound that never heals
but like rain on a cloudy day
it's a familiar feeling

Copyright © Essie Wixs | Year Posted 2020

Details | Essie Wixs Poem

Suicide Note

if this was a suicide note 
i would say i’m sorry.
i’d fill the holes of my broken life
with flowery words on paper.

if this was a suicide note,
i would ask for forgiveness.
i’d beg that you wouldn’t think too hard
or be burdened by my passing.

if this was a suicide note,
i would spill all my secrets out-
like milk on a table.
i’d tell the truth
and i’d bare my soul that has long since gone.

if this was a suicide note,
i’d let you in.
like the children who long to return home once the sun has set,
i’d let you in.

but this is not.

so the holes stay empty,
the milk in its glass.
the children play on the streets in the sun.
and i am still here.

Copyright © Essie Wixs | Year Posted 2020


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