sylvia

definitely something that I feel kind of sucks, but I've had it sitting around and I haven't posted in a while.

sylvia is rustling right,
straight into the night,
a circular mind rolling fast
she hasn't ever been
placed last.
shes a little thing, looks into you;
does big things 
and seems see through

emphatically she mouthed,
get used to it
get used to it
get used to it

onions in the trash can know,
shes got a better place to go.
drippy fingers tracing glass,
they leave a pretty crimson map.
she lost her hands and kept on walking,
sold her lips and kept on talking

look to a girl,
who chooses it
chooses it 
chooses it

shot into a scared crowd's arm,
just eager to do some harm
to something frail 
with no fight left 
she turned her back 
to their last breath.

picking up her underwear,
sylv's got some man's spit in her hair,
her locks are black
her body's bruised
another week
she'll toss and lose

tickling the spotted sky,
she found a tiny teary eye,
for someone's sake,
Sylvia reaches out
to stay awake

a trap she built on her own,
she has tired of it
tired of it
tired of it 

Reviews

[Alicia Schroeder]

How tragic. This was a greatly written peice.

[Isolophobe]

i read and waited for the suck, and found it in the action of this poem sucking the life right out of me. the rhyming is well timed and not too abundant to keep the poem from flowing you from one tragedy to the next. i'm also a fan of the repetition, it abides in the same manner by not being overdone.