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by Sam Eliza Green 12 months ago in sad poetry
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a poem


were buried

beneath the ash

carpeting Mom’s hardwood

floors and smoke forever

staining this day when

my familiar

was banished to

a parched wasteland with

charred quilts, embered

paperbacks, and soot-nosed

porcelain dolls,

who mourned

singed locks and overlooked

an armored man,


the abyss under

my bed for lost cats,

relief melting

his dread when

the stuffed bear, dusty

pink emerged instead, and

he held my childhood

in his hands—a fragment

I clung to as

I wandered the scorched

halls, displaced,

laboring to unearth

mementos of a past that

was marred by

tenebrosity and


hazing the kitchen like

mist as I gazed at

the crater in

the ceiling,

wondering where I would

sleep that night until

the smoke, burning

my throat,

forever staining

memories of this day

became my


sad poetry

About the author

Sam Eliza Green

Wayward soul, who finds belonging in the eerie and bittersweet. Poetry, short stories, and epics. Stay a while if you're struggling to feel understood. There's a place for you here.

Reader insights


Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

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  1. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

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    Well-structured & engaging content

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    The story invoked strong personal emotions

  1. Masterful proofreading

    Zero grammar & spelling mistakes

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    Writing reflected the title & theme

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