As a child it was expected
Blessed to live a life protected
Calling to the wind wide open running free from just because
Deaf and dumb about the real world and how
Evil made the world turn
Finding out too late that each one has to pave their path alone
God in all his wisdom created
Hell, a sinner’s prison
I remember hearing stories of how justice would prevail
Jesus died to set the balance
Knowing not the end of challenge
Life was in control and I was in it for the ride
My father was a good man
Never shied away from bruised hands
Obedient he followed every letter of the law
Pain a harsh reminder
Quitting wasn’t for my father
Ready for the battle he would fight until the fall
Saying goodbye is never easy
Though an adult I was his baby
Unable to get past it
Venom filled my heart
With grief
Xrays can’t see the wounds inside you
Yellow and reds fade into deep blue leaving a mess you have to wade through no well wishes can consume
Zombies left behind to survive in a world void of sunlight marching to rhythm just a little off and out of tune
About the Creator
Kelli Sheckler-Amsden
Telling stories my heart needs to tell <3 life is a journey, not a competition
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Keep reading
More stories from Kelli Sheckler-Amsden and writers in Poets and other communities.
“Women, Beauty in Old Age”, dedicated to all middle-aged and elderly women
Many people, even women themselves, feel that when a woman reaches old age, her face will age, her figure will be out of shape, and she will be old and pale, which is really desolate.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharing7 days ago in Poets
The Road to Nowhere
Trigger warnings: Violence, Death. "May the Sun burn your tongue out, woman," Fredrick's father screamed the curse into his mother's ear as their elegant little carriage rumbled along, its polished wood and gilded trim glinting in the torchlight. They had just left the small village of Saffron and were on an unnamed road to the capital for the Royal wedding. Fredrick leaned back in his plush velvet seat to escape into the passing landscape, but across from him sat the servant boy, a scrappy lad named Jack. Jack's eyes held a mixture of awe and fear, the kind that only a commoner could feel in the presence of nobility. Jack looked up and caught Fredrick's gaze, offering him a sad little smile before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little caramel treat. This candy was no doubt stolen from the kitchen treat cupboard; if he was caught with it, he would be locked in the box as punishment.
By Frank English5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (6)
Sad & Beautiful. Well done!
This was so poignant. Sending you lots of love and hugs 🥺❤️
You know this zombie is feeling this one, Kelli. Extremely well done.
Soulful expression. Xrays can’t see the wounds inside you. ❣️
Sad, yet beautiful. Well done.
Wow! Real and evocative at the same time ❣️