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Robyn Pearson Poem
The imprudent wind has ceased his movement,
The unsympathetic rain has dried the thriving soil,
The moon, so bright, increased it’s earthbound light,
The world has been covered in the remaining shadows.
Call upon the angels, you believed in as a child,
You’You will feel nothing but a cruel emptiness,
A malicious joke the religious has forced upon you,
Nobody can help the world of today.
Love was once the tribute to a life lived,
Now it’s a headstone, a grave, an end.
Love is now heartless to the needs of you,
In your future, lay vacant lands and broken dreams.
You can lust for me, but I won’t lust for you,
Love has taken most of us prisoners,
Confined to that one whose memories are inescapable,
You’re lost, lonely, forgotten ambitions are shattered.
Climb to the top, where you might find refuge,
Peer over the edge to see how extreme your fall will be,
You feel the wind start up, the rain starts to descend,
The moon disappears and you are left in the darkness.
Try to find your feet in this mess of a place,
So close to the edge, you can feel the drop that awaits you,
Leering in the background is a shadow as you fall,
That shadow has a name, you just haven’t been introduced.
Love is a simple form of suicide, disguised as a pretty package,
Laying underneath the ribbons and bows is an unbound treachery,
You cannot be taught this, you unwillingly learn of it’s unkindness,
After it pushes you to your end …
Then you realize you’You have always been forlorn,
Walking in a world of blind fools who continue to believe,
That love is a gift, love is a remuneration of dedication,
Love is nothing. Love is an evil progeny. Love is torture.
Love is a disillusioning lie.
Copyright © Robyn Pearson | Year Posted 2009
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Robyn Pearson Poem
Once, bravery shrouded my face,
He took it, all of it in one night.
Shame replaced my dignity,
Valiant interchanged my fearlessness.
Suppressed cries; stifled pleas,
Deafening roars; physical manacles.
I wither away, waking up to a stranger,
Forcing his body against mine.
There was not a way to stop him,
For he was stronger than I,
I just laid there, barely lucid,
Having to take what was being done.
“No, please stop. No, I don‘t want to.“
“You like it. You asked for it.”
Nobody there to salvage me,
Alone with a monster; it felt like eternity.
Finally blacking out for the remaining assault,
Waking up, finding him touching me again.
Afraid for my life, I lay quiet, barely breathing.
He finally got up, and so did I …
Leaving nothing, but all of my goodness,
Leaving behind the notion of nobility.
I left behind my honor, and my valor,
Hoping one day, I’ll be able to restore …
What used to be me.
Copyright © Robyn Pearson | Year Posted 2009
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Details |
Robyn Pearson Poem
At a young age, I lived a lot of adversities,
I witness their needles and bent burnt spoons,
I saw them inject their evil poison into their arms,
and as it entered their blood stream, I ran away,
not quickly for my life, but slowly to my dreams.
I spent hours among the shaded walnut groves,
pretending the vacant fields were my home,
instead of the broken picture,
framed neatly on the paper-thin wall.
Today, these moments haunt my mind,
I’I have tried to forget them – but instead,
I forgot all my birthdays and my laughs,
our trip to the beach … my innocence,
but I remember vividly … her blood,
splashed against my pale face,
and then his hand ...
taking its place back to the steering wheel,
driving us slowly to the hospital,
where my tiny blood-stained body,
was exposed to a police officers camera lens.
During those days I saw nothing of smiles,
except those of the worn dolls I told my secrets to.
I was so lonely at seven,
wondering where my parents had gone,
at night I made dinner for my sisters,
then tucked them in for bed.
The sun would rise and I would wake myself up for the 2nd grade,
hoping that they would be okay without me.
I look back at all the bruises & all the days of their blood shot eyes,
All their sleepless nights and endless "hobbies",
And wonder how I ever survived raising myself …
I still remember every detail of every pain filled day of my youth,
Except for maybe the day … the child inside me died.
Copyright © Robyn Pearson | Year Posted 2009
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