Manual PLAYGROUND and Other Poems of Child Abuse

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I was the only one who stayed. To this day I'm not sure why. He turned and walked towards me slowly. The little man isn't running with the others. Are you not afraid Billy boy? Afraid for your life? Who am I? My, my the boy has a backbone. The nerve to question while others lose control of their bladders. Well, I'll tell you who I am, child. I am God's worst nightmare. I am evil in all it's forms wrapped up in one little package and sent to collect the souls of the innocent.

All of you here today will be mine tomorrow.


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Roger will fall down the stairs off of his front porch and break his neck. Charlene will die from infection due to that nasty little accident and Becky will be hit by the school bus Thursday morning. That will be most nasty!

Penelope's Playground : It's More Than Okay to be Different

Almost a decapitation. I won't bore you with the rest, but they will all die. I like you, so I'm thinking, perhaps I won't take your soul until you die from natural causes. What do you think of that idea? At that moment, when your family is gathered round your bedside after suffering that So, what do you think of that, Billy? Come, come I haven't much time!

That laugh again and he turned and walked away in the same direction Remember, you are mine upon your death, Billy boy! By the end of the week, every child on the playground that day had died And now you know why, even in my darkest days, I never, ever contemplate suicide.

playground and other poems of child abuse Manual

A M Ryder Dec What Could? We aren't on the playground anymore There are new rules We have to be mature but Mustn't lose the spirit of childlike wonder What is love anyways? Maybe it's supposed to break all the rules Life is short When two people find each other What should stand in their way?

September Roses Mar Little house Timeless street Childhood garden The scent of your preschool playground after a storm on a Wednesday in may The distinguishable noise of your parents' doorbell The weepy feeling looking at childhood photos and knowing you'll never get those moments back The melancholy moment you realize the book you're reading was your favorite bedtime story The second the atmosphere shifts and you're suddenly thrown back to memories of your mothers embrace on a stormy night The suffocating feeling of revisiting tales thinning at the ends as your recollection slowly fades The slipping grip of what once was that will never be again, slowly turning faded and acid washed until its nothing but a feeling you cant put a name to Nostalgia.

Pyrrha Feb Liars Playground. Lips are not the only playground for liars Their eyes are holding back storms Like cauldrons brewing lightning With such a high voltage To shock you so suddenly You will forget there ever was A word named truth. Hi there. Sometimes it hurts to think. I'm driving around in my hometown I saw this old park that me and my friends would run and laugh and play at all the time. We played cops and robbers Lava Monster Freeze tag We acted like knights in strong armor and princesses with glittery dresses and we all slayed the dragons Well now here I am staring at this old swing set that no one swings on anymore.

I used to think that I could touch the clouds with my feet if I swung high enough. There is something so lively about a group of kids laughing and playing on a playground. There is something so eerie about an old empty playground where no one goes. That playground used to be so alive. Now the swing creaks as it sways in the slight breeze. You can almost hear faint whispers of the kids laughing from years before.

Now all those kids are adults with lives and responsibilities that are much more important than slaying a dragon.

Penelope's Playground : It's More Than Okay to be Different

The wood has splinters that get stuck in your fingers. It is not shiny and fun anymore. It used to be new But I have found that everything changes eventually. I wish people didn't leave so unexpectedly. Anyways I am just rambling but next time you see a playground just try to look away. Bellissima May Idle Time is the Devil's Playground. Ivan Brooks Sr Jan Darkroom Of My Mind. The world's gone mad but my mind is made up. Time to let ya'll into the darkroom of my mind, A place where I'm the referee of a poetic world cup. This is where I am creative even though I'm blind Don't get me wrong I am not leaving from town.

No more radio or TV saturated with all the sad news, I have got enough breaking news of my very own Breaking to me each and every moment as it brews. Come and meet the hard drive of my creative doom, That contains my beautiful and liberated mind. Welcome to my one bright side I call my darkroom, It's a place that's so special, I reckon it's one of a kind. You have to know that I always act blind but I see. In my mind, I can walk stack naked and levitate. My mind is where I remain totally black and free. Come join me set my poetic dial and help me activate, The code that will outshine any power on this earth.

My mind is where I live and where nobody has access, Here I can run a poetic marathon without taking a breath, Call it my playground and intellectual fortress. My mind is deep, a place of absolute calm and refuge, Somewhere I will always see as the final frontier. It is dangerous and toxic like a nuclear centrifuge. In there, I am all alert and vigilant like a soldier. My mind is a darkroom where I give birth to new ideas. It is a vessel and place in which I do magic with letters. It is my holy land of thoughts, my own creative Judea, Where each idea is sacred and light as bird feathers.

Welcome to the epicenter of my creative mind. This is where I turn letters into spoken words A front line of creativity where no one leaves behind. Come and see where all words become useful swords. My mind produces powerful words like some light beams Courageous and powerful words for extra motivation. Spoken Words that will light up people's faded dreams. Now you know that up in my mind are no limitation, There exists an enormous capacity of time and space.

Welcome one, welcome all to the darkroom of my mind Take a seat and be calm, be quiet this is my place For this here is my personal creative post of command. My mind is the final frontier..