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The Faceless
They had no eyes
No ears
No mouth
Or nose
They had no face at all
I watched them
Enraged by their differences
What I could not understand
I attempted to run
In no direction in particular
But away from here
From what was different
From what I could not understand
I ran until I crashed
Collapsing onto the floor
Amidst a pile of glass
I held a shard in my reddened, bloody hands
I pushed the shard against my palm watching the blood pour out
And then I ran towards them
The shard held out
Towards those who were different
Those I did not understand
I pierced them through the heart
Watching as they fell apart
Unto the floor
A broken pile of glass
Of what was different
What I could not understand
My blood covered my hand
Dripping unto the floor and staining the broken glass crimson
I approached the last one and ended it all
What was different
What I could not understand
I looked down
Towards the broken glass
And noticed my reflection
No eyes
No ears
No mouth
Or nose
I had no face at all
I drew up the shard of glass I still held in my hand
Up to my heart
And plunged it in
Ending what was different
What I could not understand
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Favorite Quote:
"I learned that you should feel when writing, not like Lord Byron on a mountain top, but like a child stringing beads in kindergarten - happy, absorbed and quietly putting one bead on after another." Brenda Ueland
I love the story within your poem. How you changed and I especially love the last line.
"Ending what was different
What I could not understand"
Very powerful poem.
~Jess