Praenomen & Painted Door
#17 of Poetry c.2019
A heavy poetic set based around desperation and the callous disregard of one life's worth to another. This piece took an absurd amount of time to produce, breaking my previous record by ... a lot.
I think I'm most proud of this one. Goodness.
Praenomen & Painted Door
Hell heeds for the child, who, by manners, seemed most mild, when compared to by the lot, or else be singled out and shot.
What she does is what she can, so that she can form a plan; it needs such a state of thought, that a young girl must ought not.
It asks her things that she can't know, while she fights the undertow, that was forced upon her gait - an Atlas kind of profane weight.
She answers to them, fatherkind, like the cream to the rind; she is held down by a seal - that kind which cooks her meal.
/
He loved her in all kind of weather, even as he tanned his leather, that he always loved to use, to keep up an old world ruse.
She was only twelve and gone, running for the hills at dawn, in the hope that she, at last, can free herself from this past.
Fatherkind had found her out, rushing forth to meet her rout; a rifle shot would rip right through, where it is her soul once knew.
Her poor self went right away, on the River Styx - to pay; the values therein will unfurl to show the worth of a little girl.