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The Reaping of a Poisoned Harvest

Contributed by littletent on Thursday, 26th July 2007 @ 09:30:53 AM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry

Into my cell that creature walked,
in bottle green, with attitude,
determined to destroy.
Him a man of middle age and I, a skinny boy
of seventeen. A young trainee,
as we were called.

If you out there
knew what went on in here you’d be appalled.

He stood there, grinning, malice
bursting through his masquerade
of social norms,
leeching on the atmosphere. Conform,
or pay an even higher price.
Once more my world was rocked.

If you out there
knew what went on in here you would be shocked.

His blood-pumped face an inch away,
I felt his heat and caught his stench.
and then the awful, sudden still:
I knew that sign: A cat before the kill.
I braced myself and died a little more.
And from my mouth there dropped a muffled yelp

If you out there
knew what went on in here, you’d would have helped.
…Wouldn’t you?

That wait for him to touch was tensile steel.
His rank breath on my ear the
only sound.
I couldn’t take it any more and swivelled round
and grabbed the bradawl from my table.
I jammed it in his neck and watched him bleeding.

If you out there knew what went on in here you would have
laughed
at his pathetic pleading
for help.
I did.
I’m glad he died.
That
is what went on with me,
a boy, inside.

Copyright Â© littletent ... [ 2007-07-26 09:30:53]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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