This replay in my head
tired, inescapable
Past
built upon
past
Run away
cannot stay
to play your sordid game
Let me out
wicked world
I never asked for this.
Weary Words
February 2, 2009 by Sarah Joyce Bryant
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My Booktin Essays- How Writing Found Me: Part oneI can still see it – one of only a handful of memories from a heartbreaking childhood – my tiny body curled up, a barely perceptible silhouette of a C, on an over worn, tattered couch. In my hand is a book – an escape from the miserable world that I [...]
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I like how you are getting more economy of words–each poem I see of yours seems to have more focus. This ending had a big impact for me. I think i would like to see this poem fleshed out more with concrete images–that turn we talk about in class from time to time–it’s there!