Monday, September 16, 2013

Thoughts With Claws (a sonnet by me)


Sharp-edged arrows fly at outrageous speeds 

Eat the insults, spit them out, regret it 

And now from her eyes a salty angst bleeds 

Try as she might, she just can’t forget it 




Perhaps by stopping she’ll shrink so small 

She’ll disappear as if under a rock 

Or rip of her mask made up like a doll 

Revealing her insides for them to mock 




She’s making no sense, she knows very well 

To you she’s an innocent confection 

But that feeling hurts more than words could tell 

Not good enough, so far from perfection 




Her mouth is gritty with thick reprimands 

Surrender to the bed of clawing hands

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