Child Wishing on a Poet's Dream | Teen Ink

Child Wishing on a Poet's Dream

January 18, 2010
By EscapistWriter BRONZE, Franklin, Massachusetts
EscapistWriter BRONZE, Franklin, Massachusetts
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Write to live...."


“I shall remember this night deeply in the dark corners of my mind. Forever. ‘Twas the night in which no one killed me. January Tenth in the Year of Our Lord and Saviour Two Thousand and Ten. In thirteen days, I would be seventeen years but I wanted to die before then.
“And I grew sad because no one killed me.”

My childhood and innocence, to wish their return
Upon my dying day would please others who’d cease to mourn
Once they found my pallor on the Earth. To burn
Me unto Paradise, no one would ever dare to heart’s turn.

Why did I not die? Three lustrums already is too long to live,
I want to strive happily ever after without my give
Of pain which each day seems to revive
Old heartbreaks never blind enough to attempt to forgive.

If there is someone out there, I wish you not to tear
My heart and disdain me. I do not wish to fear
Each mortal I meet in the dark Devil’s snare,
All this betrayal is killing me, I just cannot bear

Seeing other poets in pain but that’s the nature of this Beast,
Those who live in impunity in what they do must be deceased
If they think through their art, they finally feel released
By the Celestial brightness, not deifying yourself in the least.

So, if this is how you want it to be, I should feel
Upon my vital flesh, ticking blood and cold steel,
Or maybe the brief fire from what the metal gun does deal,
My life forever will in blue-shining ink be sealed.

This letter, I have two, one for my soul and the other for God
Because I would die any time and see my soul disintegrate
Into loneliness. If I want to die, I’d rather maim myself in peace,
It doesn’t matter how I go down to hell but there’s some way there.

Never-ending but everlasting is this ended agony,
I can hear only beauty in the midst of my cacophony,
I’d rather remove my eyes with fiery iron than see these poets in mortality,
It doesn’t matter to a damned, murder nightingale as I see me in me.

“I have tried to speak to Supremacies such as these….”

Daddy, don’t shoot me down from the sky to the ground,
I was lost on the cruel street and orphanage, you found
My soul. I have my moment of silence as I am death-bound,
This child is crying while you laugh and whip it around.

Mommy, please don’t poison me with hard thoughts from
The world I already so well understand, Now I trace none
Of the murders alike you. And from what you have done
To my art, it is now in black water, completely overcome.

“Mother, I shall remember this night as the night that didn’t let me die. I tried as hard as my will would will but it’s impossible to die. Why can’t I die when I already have damned immortality.”

“My dearest child, if you had immortality, your friends wouldn’t be able to kill you. If you weren’t so clever, they would have mutilated you a long time ago. You are very lucky that your poetry was there to defend your flank, for without it, you might now be in hell.”

“Or in heaven, mother…. Would I be in heaven, mother? Mother?.... Mother?.... Where are you? Mother, in heaven?”

The author's comments:
This poem is inspired by the following and it is also for the following: The poets who had suffered and suffer the same things here, a writer whose words and unreal presence would not leave my mind after one poem for her, another poet who does truly believes in magic, for the artists who choose to shoot down other artists, nonbelievers, and escapists, as well.

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