Submissions by shewasfree (Bean Grundy)

But 5:12 is too late.
Way past a sinner's bedtime.
Forgive the madman for her inexplainable dance routines.
Her own pillow's tired of her shit.
She swallows her whims and digests it like candy.
Only she knows it's much more like bitter pill.
But she'd get better, won't she?
Bitter pills are engineered to target an illness's resistance and bring it down.
But what if she's the illness?
Would it hurt to be brought down?
And what would become of her?
I certainly refuse to believe she's only skin and questions stitched together by a thread of...

I'm too damn tired of failed poetry
I just want you here next to me
Every word is equal
To every flesh shaking
To every bone breaking
To every chance I'm taking
To every time I'm waiting
Up to this line, there are 43 words
I added one
And added four again
And if every word is equal to how much I miss you
I think this poem will never end

She was taught those bombs were drums
And the sharp sounds of cries are only guitar strums
Even though she doesn’t know where they came from
So when she heard the noise, she thought why not dance?
So she traded those house clothes to a fancy dress
Even though she doesn’t know where they came from
She was only a child, an innocent being at eight
But when she saw it coming, it was very late
Even though she doesn’t know where they came from
Right before her eyes, the lights have flashed
And she knew in that moment it was her last dance
But what is the...