Brian Hinckley
Buffalo, New York

The Murder Of Hope

Step on it good and hard,
make sure it is dead.
Hope under heel,
grinding into powder.

Slide that knife across skin,
hard and deep to be sure.
In a ditch like a missing person,
Hope lies bleeding.

Salt that wound and burn it,
coagulating under your heat.
Blood and dirt combine,
this sickeningly sweet murder excites you.

Toss the weapons aside,
no caring if they're found.
Your murder was metaphorical,
no reprisals are forthcoming.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
James Timothy Jarrett 01 October 2008
Very powerful. I really am beginnig to enjoy good hate poetry. Kudos
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Stacey Watts 01 October 2008
This is a very strong poem. Never good to destroy hope. I think you are very talented.
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Tai Chi Italy 01 October 2008
PS Hope sings, things will get better
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Tai Chi Italy 01 October 2008
lol well that's a point the judge will surely consider, springs to my legal eagle mind Brian! so funny and not so funny for the victim...although very inspiring winking at you, Tai
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