A poem about slammed doors
You know it's happened
in your house. Someone's thrown a fit. Held in a temper, or not held it in. Someone has stomped out of the room and swung a door shut so hard it slams, making you jump in your seat or where you stand.
Whether adolescent or grown, deeper emotions, hurting reactions, are sometimes fathomless. This is when 30 thousand leagues deep is only the beginning. This poem is for the hurting hearts.
when life is only about this.
a kid giving lip,
just a chit with a chip
on their shoulder.
when your stomach sits, sick.
screaming through teeth
with green, mean,
when the screamings
match the cadence
of your heart.
when life is a sight
to never behold
and hearts aren't hearts
unless they're chipped
from fool's gold.
when sounds find
swords and strike
the likes of
lightning in a field
of frayed cloth.
when words hurt worlds
deeper than a digger
can dig a grave.
and choices are bad
because the good ones
refused the praise that you craved.
when the lights in the house,
separated by walls
into the hours of the night.
and each person sleeps
with the knowledge she keeps
of the feelings enslaved.
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