The GiantA Poem by Fin BuckleyI don't want to see him pay that price.There was a giant in a lonely room,
I met him once. His back was broad and muscled Yet curved inward; Waiting and expecting The arrival of someone cruel. I met him, but he did not want me To see his face. “It is a hideous thing,” he stated. So simply. So faintly. “Even hideous things are beautiful,” I replied, and he gently cast a calloused hand For me to climb upon. He lifted me before himself, eyes downcast as I stared
into his soul. It was living art. To think we live in a world Where we tear beautiful things to pieces To make the ugly parts of ourselves Feel attractive Is a tragedy,
And one that only the victims can afford. © 2017 Fin Buckley
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AuthorFin BuckleyAboutI simply enjoy writing. Let the littlest things inspire you, and let that inspiration run wild. You will find yourself making a lot of art when you do. more..Writing
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