Can you hear it beating?
It's thundering around within my breasts,
The uneven melody quickening its pace.
Beat, Beat, Beat- I hear it cry.
Beat,
I remember when I was younger.
Beat,
I can feel the rough hands of my father.
Beat,
I can hear my younger self scream.
Beat, Beat, Beat- the caged orphan wails.
Silly me,
Being foolish enough to care.
Stupid me,
It doesn't matter if I cry.
Selfish me,
I shouldn't have asked for help.
Beat, Beat, Beat- the caged orphan pleas.
Can you hear it beating?
That's my heart you hear.
That's YOUR heart that you hear.
The only difference?
I'm dead inside,
Leaving my beating heart as an orphan.
Beat, Beat, Beat.
And there's no way for me to revive myself.
YOU ARE READING
Eighteen Seconds Until Sunrise |||POETRY|||
PoetryThis is all I have... Simple words that cannot begin to describe with any of these constructed syllables the resonating depth of such complexities... I'll try, though.
