Vindictive Poem by Deborah Cromer

Vindictive



If one time I wrote of horror and dread
Words of pain and sorrow, wishing to be dead
Believe always I write only of pages
A bizarre twist of darkness, passed down from the ages

Scorned, it was easy to write the worst
Of all damned to hell, to be forever cursed
Easy to turn a broken fingernail into a sawed off arm
Easy to make up things full of terror and harm

A talent to muse and keep the reader awake
To grip the reader, to grab hold and shake
Reaching the point of reality so close and so real
Overpowering a reading moment, seconds to feel

Exaggeration of what I know for some to be so true
I only invented ugly stories involving you
Your anger was there, but not used and out of control
I am so sorry for my words they took their toll

I was hurt and wrote very dangerous, bad things
My heart soared high, then you busted up my wings
I would sentence you to hell with what I would write
You killed me hard and fast when we had been so tight

My writing is not to be used to hurt anyone
It is really over, I am not with you, what is done is done

Monday, November 9, 2009
Topic(s) of this poem: loss
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Eyan Desir 06 January 2010

Yes some ppl should be place in hell for their sins....the ppl that turn your sweet love into dirty tar...the ones that place scars that dont heal i hate them.......good write well its better we punish them in what we write, and not what we do.

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Ying Escalona 09 November 2009

signs of cooling off....i love it

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Deborah Cromer

Deborah Cromer

Portland, Oregon
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