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Literature Text
Her heart's made of steel
Mine's made of plaster
With so much pressure
I'm deteriorating faster
It's ending now
It's ending badly
I'm crying for help
I'm screaming madly
But no one listens
To my calls
No one stops
Or cares at all
I'm on the floor
Broken bits of plaster
I'm certain I'm dying
I just wish it were faster
Mine's made of plaster
With so much pressure
I'm deteriorating faster
It's ending now
It's ending badly
I'm crying for help
I'm screaming madly
But no one listens
To my calls
No one stops
Or cares at all
I'm on the floor
Broken bits of plaster
I'm certain I'm dying
I just wish it were faster
Literature
Ode to Sylvia Plath
the smell of the kitchen floor.
six days ago you left a note,
and promised the world you would die.
your eyes are destiny,
i can see the patterns aligning
in the stars. there is
consecration in the grief.
coins flashing last-day sighs,
your lips pink and pink
against chalky exhaustion.
your mind was truth.
you left textures in the darkness
and the candle flames. linoleum and dried milk
and gasoline. beautiful, you thought.
Literature
Dear Sylvia,
Dear Sylvia,
I pray this letter
finds you in time
to forestall the inevitable.
If only for a moment.
That before the first bite
of your last supper
and breath
you can read these words
and know. Know
before your eyelids
flutter closed
the last time
Literature
Fragile
Give me ten days,
and a heartbeat that
means more than the
flux of muscle,
and I'll hold your
hand and teach you
to play piano keys
made of porcelain.
Suggested Collections
It feels as though I'm dying.
I'd like to pull a Sylvia Plath and shove my head in an oven.
I'd like to pull a Sylvia Plath and shove my head in an oven.
© 2008 - 2024 Teh-Melted-Jello
Comments10
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Rhyming usually makes things less serious. But here it works so well. Well done!