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Alice Southern Poem
With a pen she wrote a story,
Stretched across her old notebook.
About a girl who wanted to be noticed,
And a boy who refused to look.
And she wept and wept and wept,
Leaving an inky, tear-sodden page,
But she swept the issue under a rug,
And brought it all down to their age.
With the same pen she wrote,
This time on a newer, nice notepad.
About her dropping, declining grades,
And how her parents were so mad.
And she tried and tried and tried,
To hold her emotions behind her eyes,
And she realised she would never be good enough.
No matter how hard she tried.
With a drag and a puff of smoke,
And something alcoholic between her lips,
She wrote drunkenly on a piece of paper,
About how her life had come to this.
And she winced and winced and winced,
At the messy drawings on her am,
How some were faded, how some were fresh.
How she could cause herself such harm.
With her crimson wrists the subject,
And a piece of broken glass.
She wrote her final story,
Before her body would finally pass.
And she stayed silent, silent, silent.
She was a stature laying in red.
She thought
“What use to words on paper have
When I am already
Truly
Dead.”
Copyright © Alice Southern | Year Posted 2024
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Details |
Alice Southern Poem
You grew a sunflower in my heart,
Which you nurtured and then left to die.
Sometimes I feel it growing,
When we catch eyes or you walk by.
It misses your food and water,
All sealed and signed with a longing kiss.
Now it grows dry, it weeps till its barren,
Wondering how it all came down to this.
How you left with such pride and honour,
How you couldn’t care for it one more time.
How my prayers they aren’t getting answered,
How you left without giving a dime.
It yearns for your love and attention,
Even though everyone says you were cruel, and mean.
It still come alive when you tried near it,
Now all it wants is to be seen.
All I want is for you to love me,
The way you seemingly did all summer.
Please come quickly back before it is winter,
Before our sunflower goes into slumber.
Although I know until then it will consume me,
I know it will never truly go away.
All I can do is sit here and hope,
That you will come back some day.
Copyright © Alice Southern | Year Posted 2024
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