Sirens.

Sirens

wailing through the night,

fists knock on doors

shaking residents from sleep.

His knock on bone

shaking them from socket.

Her body crumples,

when the words tumble 

out of an officers mouth

and punch her in the stomach.

They wedge awkwardly in her ears,

slowly begin to melt into her skin,

filling every cavity until she is drowning.

Like her daughter did,

when her mouth was filling with blood.

She was strangled by the urge to scream

so you scream for her

into an empty London street.

Your voice is sirens.

Her voice is silent.

Author's Note

Please can you tell me your interpretation of the piece x

Reviews

[Rebekah Smith]

Well F**K.
Poor cow...this is raw, and the lack of 'overly flowery' language makes me feel it more. He punched her...was it hus knuckles or her that left the socket? This feels like the downside of London to me...not that I'm from there, or even familiar with it. Great

[aLittlePain]

Frantic pace that makes this very effective....griping, reflective the mood of the content.

A knock at the door no one ever wants to answer...a case of an abusive relationship?
Powerful close with the last two lines.

Ngā mihi maioha (warmest regards)
Rach

[Paul Bell]

Sadly a violent end for some poor girl, maybe her partner. But the knock on the door. Every parents nightmare.

[Lorry]

The knock on the door that no one ever wants to hear, telling you that your nightmares and fears have come true and that life will never be the same for you, written in such a way that you barely feel the lines pass. It has an urgency/panic to it, much like the Mothers when she hears the truth. Well written, thanks for sharing.