deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Ballad of the Runaway
Pack up my bags and I'm told to get out.
At age of sixteen by my mother no doubt.
She beat me up until I was bruised and bleeding.
Then told me to get up and get out of her life.
With those words that was the last jab of the knife.
And so I am on the road with two bags on my back
plenty of layers to protect me from the cold, hopefully they'll be enough.
The highway is busy and loud as can be.
I stick out my thumb to the cars whizzing past me.
Black hair blowing in the wind and none of these people will offer to be a friend.
To some poor runaway that is standing on the street.
She's choose to leave behind her life.
Which has nothing to do with me.
That's what they think as they drive onward in their cars.
Get to go home to a family and a house.
Get to sleep in a bed and not a cardboard box.
No one sees it from the runaway Point of view.
Not thinking that running away was the option that we did not choose.
But more were forced to leave and never be seen again.
Good bye to your old life, no more family andd no more friends.
It's getting late and I have miles to go.
If only I had the option of going back home.
A car pulls up next to me and asks if I want a ride,
being very tired and lonely, I don't think and climb inside.
The man who speaks I know him from my past.
He is an old friend, but the one I would depend on last.
He says he knows a gang of girls that happily take me in.
I tell him that's mighty nice and very kind of him.
And so we drive until we get to a motel,
A herd of motorcycles parked together, like horses in a corral.
I get out of the car and meet there girls with dark make-up and studded colors with spikes.
They all dressed like a bunch of the guys.
They asked me my name and I told them what it was.
They say that they'll work on me and that we'll have a lot of fun.
Right away they accepted me in, to the little group, circle or gang.
They told me that they're known as the Black Hearts, and that was their name.
I told them I would do whatever they wanted me to do.
They asked me then if I had any money for food.
I told them I did and gave it to them with glee.
They smiled and patted me on the back, our friendship complete.
That night we ate as kings, or so I was told we did.
Because the small meal my money gave us was the best they've had,
for a while it was seem and they said tomorrow they'd get me a bike.
Then we all feel asleep.
Me whispering them a goodnight.
The next morning came quickly
and like they said they delivered a brand new motor bike.
I was given a helmet and a leather jacket too.
Then I got on the bike and they told me what to do.
I was always a fast learner or so it would seem.
And before long I was riding, at unremarkable speed.
They said that when I ride the red lights on the back of my bike
looked like two butterfly wings that had taken flight.
And so that became my new alias.
The Red Butterfly.
A new name
and a new life.
Why not try?
Days turned to weeks
and time continued on, as it seems to always do.
Winter became bitter and things changed for me too soon.
I became very emotional and slept a lot of the time.
The man who had saved me before told me that there was no reason to cry.
Finally one day I felt sick and couldn't hold it in, but pulled over and my lunch became the should've been.
One of the girls spoke up and gave me a diagnosis.
She said that pregnancy seem to be the only prognosis.
Of course I thought.
How stupid am I?
Living on the street.
I forget about protection and every health instuction ever taught to me.
I told the father of the child that inside of me grew.
He told me that he didn't care and he for the longest time knew.
He then said that it would die while we were living on the street.
And so to keep up with the gang.
The child inside me's life had to be slain.
And so to clinic in a ghetto side of town I went.
By myself for the father was tired or as he said he was spent.
And the doctor's told me that it would be okay.
This choice was mine to make.
The ceiling was white as I laid on the bed.
And the drill of the sawing it away still hums in my head.
Then it was over, like the blink of eye.
My child was dead.
Too soon to tell if it was boy or girl.
By my hand had it died.
Abortion be it's cruel name.
And so now I cry.
The doctor comes in, with a clipboard he is armed.
He smiles at me as if this event caused no one harm.
He then told me in the kindest of words he could say
"I'm sorry miss but it seems that your body won't be able to take.
Another pregnancy, you're too scarred inside.
Too many bruises, cuts and bones that could break.
I'm sorry my dear, this abortion was a mistake."
And so I would never be able to have a family.
Or be a mother it would seem,
So I take the score fate has set and calmly watch the passing of my dreams.
Or do I go to?
In this realm?
In this world?
What do I have to live for?
Nothing.
No one.
My life is a closed door.
And I don't have the key.
And so I take these pills and I say goodnight.
Let me hold the only child that I will never get to have.
Let me have some happiness in this life that I have never had.
Let me in.
Let me out,
Of this casket of my life.
Let me take my final bow upon the stage.
As the curtins close.
And this ballad comes to a end.
With these pills
Let me end my life.
And so I say
good-bye and goodnight.
At age of sixteen by my mother no doubt.
She beat me up until I was bruised and bleeding.
Then told me to get up and get out of her life.
With those words that was the last jab of the knife.
And so I am on the road with two bags on my back
plenty of layers to protect me from the cold, hopefully they'll be enough.
The highway is busy and loud as can be.
I stick out my thumb to the cars whizzing past me.
Black hair blowing in the wind and none of these people will offer to be a friend.
To some poor runaway that is standing on the street.
She's choose to leave behind her life.
Which has nothing to do with me.
That's what they think as they drive onward in their cars.
Get to go home to a family and a house.
Get to sleep in a bed and not a cardboard box.
No one sees it from the runaway Point of view.
Not thinking that running away was the option that we did not choose.
But more were forced to leave and never be seen again.
Good bye to your old life, no more family andd no more friends.
It's getting late and I have miles to go.
If only I had the option of going back home.
A car pulls up next to me and asks if I want a ride,
being very tired and lonely, I don't think and climb inside.
The man who speaks I know him from my past.
He is an old friend, but the one I would depend on last.
He says he knows a gang of girls that happily take me in.
I tell him that's mighty nice and very kind of him.
And so we drive until we get to a motel,
A herd of motorcycles parked together, like horses in a corral.
I get out of the car and meet there girls with dark make-up and studded colors with spikes.
They all dressed like a bunch of the guys.
They asked me my name and I told them what it was.
They say that they'll work on me and that we'll have a lot of fun.
Right away they accepted me in, to the little group, circle or gang.
They told me that they're known as the Black Hearts, and that was their name.
I told them I would do whatever they wanted me to do.
They asked me then if I had any money for food.
I told them I did and gave it to them with glee.
They smiled and patted me on the back, our friendship complete.
That night we ate as kings, or so I was told we did.
Because the small meal my money gave us was the best they've had,
for a while it was seem and they said tomorrow they'd get me a bike.
Then we all feel asleep.
Me whispering them a goodnight.
The next morning came quickly
and like they said they delivered a brand new motor bike.
I was given a helmet and a leather jacket too.
Then I got on the bike and they told me what to do.
I was always a fast learner or so it would seem.
And before long I was riding, at unremarkable speed.
They said that when I ride the red lights on the back of my bike
looked like two butterfly wings that had taken flight.
And so that became my new alias.
The Red Butterfly.
A new name
and a new life.
Why not try?
Days turned to weeks
and time continued on, as it seems to always do.
Winter became bitter and things changed for me too soon.
I became very emotional and slept a lot of the time.
The man who had saved me before told me that there was no reason to cry.
Finally one day I felt sick and couldn't hold it in, but pulled over and my lunch became the should've been.
One of the girls spoke up and gave me a diagnosis.
She said that pregnancy seem to be the only prognosis.
Of course I thought.
How stupid am I?
Living on the street.
I forget about protection and every health instuction ever taught to me.
I told the father of the child that inside of me grew.
He told me that he didn't care and he for the longest time knew.
He then said that it would die while we were living on the street.
And so to keep up with the gang.
The child inside me's life had to be slain.
And so to clinic in a ghetto side of town I went.
By myself for the father was tired or as he said he was spent.
And the doctor's told me that it would be okay.
This choice was mine to make.
The ceiling was white as I laid on the bed.
And the drill of the sawing it away still hums in my head.
Then it was over, like the blink of eye.
My child was dead.
Too soon to tell if it was boy or girl.
By my hand had it died.
Abortion be it's cruel name.
And so now I cry.
The doctor comes in, with a clipboard he is armed.
He smiles at me as if this event caused no one harm.
He then told me in the kindest of words he could say
"I'm sorry miss but it seems that your body won't be able to take.
Another pregnancy, you're too scarred inside.
Too many bruises, cuts and bones that could break.
I'm sorry my dear, this abortion was a mistake."
And so I would never be able to have a family.
Or be a mother it would seem,
So I take the score fate has set and calmly watch the passing of my dreams.
Or do I go to?
In this realm?
In this world?
What do I have to live for?
Nothing.
No one.
My life is a closed door.
And I don't have the key.
And so I take these pills and I say goodnight.
Let me hold the only child that I will never get to have.
Let me have some happiness in this life that I have never had.
Let me in.
Let me out,
Of this casket of my life.
Let me take my final bow upon the stage.
As the curtins close.
And this ballad comes to a end.
With these pills
Let me end my life.
And so I say
good-bye and goodnight.
Published 23rd Jul 2011
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0
reading list entries 0
comments 0
reads 899
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
