WHO DO I BLAME?A Poem by EmmaWhen you refuse to look inward for the answerIrrepressible
and unquenchable thirst to
seek out the red hands, which
choke me in their grasp, crushing
me and forcing me to gasp: beg to
breathe.
My veins pulse
erratically and my eyelids
droop submissively then shoot open
with false conviction. The
accelerating beating announces the
arrival of others.
Warning
blurs to mockery as
red seeps into broken memories. They grow
and gather, prepare
for another wave. Pride
in their collective, shimmering beauty.
It
hits me.
Momentarily
I am stunned. Everything
stops. I am
content in my understanding. But the beating resumes, intensified
by the brief pause.
Beating.
Glimpse. Red.
Beat. See. Red.
Red.
Hit. Calm.
Beat. Red. Hit. Beat. Red.
Hit. Beat. Red. Hit. Red. Red. Red.
Beaten.
All
I see and all I will ever see is
red.
I
look through pupils framed with
red.
Powered
by blood which stains red.
I
am consumed by a desire to find what
never existed. © 2018 EmmaAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorEmmaHerefordshire, United KingdomAboutI am currently at college, and hoping to go into a career in the performing arts industry. I love writing scripts and am enjoying exploring poetry on here and expressing my opinions through my own. .. more..Writing
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