Poetry / Their Secret
Silent cries in the night
screams of quiet teardrops fall
pain unspoken in the light
in darkness will come to call.
Little bodies touched with hate
bruises you will never find
dark silhouettes that penetrate
engrave images in their minds.
Eyes that whisper hurt and pain
lips that won’t speak a word
of the secret and the shame
deafening rage that can’t be heard.
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I’ve thought a lot about this peice since i first read it a few days ago.Why didn’t i review it straight away? I suppose the truth is i needed time to come to terms with how honest i needed to be about it; the truth is i don’t like reading this sort of thing simply because it basically says to me; ‘think miserable thoughts’. Clearly it is me in the wrong-it’s a tough world and we need to face up to things like this going on, at least if it can make a difference? If i was to write something that i hoped would get this message across, well, i’m a great fan of disguising things as entertainment; Giving someone ( i hope ) something they want to read, and slipping something in they might not have looked at if it were presented in a more stark way. My story ‘the comb over is over rover’( i don’t want to sound like a self-publicist-apologies) could have been written as a moan, in which case people may have switched off earlier than they otherwise might;
No body loves older people, it’s all about youth today, older people can still be attractive, some people are very lonely because of the stigma of getting wrinkly or bored, etc etc. I just thought i would put that point over as something to consider. I don’t expect comedy on a subject such as this of course. It is by the way, well written and clear. You evoke a complex scenario without confusing analogies, whilst at the same time using language well to give depth and emotional punch.
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You know my thoughts on this one already. It’s powerful & it’s truth. It hits hard & can crack your soul to know people can be this disgusting & cruel. Well written!
This work hits very close to home. I grew up with this rage and I had to learn to control it. For the most part, I have learned to do so. But every once in a while it comes back in full force, especially when I read pieces like this. It was well written. I could feel my blood boiling all over again. I hope that this is fiction.
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