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Sunday, May 26, 2013

Playground Bullies

They lay the bricks,
a stack of tough,
unbreakable things
cemented together;
the color of bloated cheeks
fighting anger's force

They cut my trees
and did not care
because they thought
them old and bare

They shook off
their remaining leaves
like playground bullies
and now I have nothing
to whisper truth to me

They chopped the branches
that used to point toward
the direction of the breeze
when I would ask which way it went.
They chopped them down
because they were loose and lowly bent

And now when it rains
I stay inside.

The strong roof
and brick so tough
ward off a wailing cloud,
but I miss the tears;
it hurts more not to cry.
it hurts so loud.

Those trees would always
ask me to say when
when I've had enough
and listen when I did

And now my broken voice
speaks to nothing

The listening
has been removed
and replaced
with rows of deafness

Sure the tall, mighty
structures will intimidate
outer danger,
but they do not live
and they do not care.

And so I am left
without even
a stump of hope
to spare.

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