So i was doing a bit of spring cleaning ( in the middle of summer) and I chanced upon a file with a lot of old stuff in it. And, inside, I found this poem I wrote when I was 14. I have no recollection of writing this poem, but, nonetheless I hope you enjoy it. Again, a very short poem.
When it calls your name, you cannot refuse it. Held between your life and that of those you love. Possessing your every nerve, capturing your heart. To be sent to your own demise, so others may not perish. The beast is everywhere, yet no-one can see it. It only shows in your actions, it comes to you daily, and it infects you, makes you a different person. To cry for a loved one or to make a loved one cry, seeping through adrenaline, it is but a humble decision. It is called sacrifice.
06/10/2008
I appreciate the shortness of your poetry. It is as if I was thinking about something, then there is a pause whilst in the background your poetry passes in pictures and then - the world moves on but something changed. Perception. Maybe the glasses got a little more pink :)
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