Misery's End (Parts 3-10)

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  • #6939
    pookajordan
    pookajordan
    Participant

    Three-

    During the night

    As I walked to the park

    I would see him

    And once

    He saw me

    Screaming

    And he

    Smiled

    At me.

    Misery was blinded.

    It was such a nice smile.

    It said, “I want to help you”

    No. He said it.

    I heard him.

    I went home and slept

    My first sleep

    In a long time.

    Four-

    Misery

    Woke me

    Told me

    Never

    To ever go near

    The man again.

    Five-

    Months later

    Buying bread and milk

    There he was.

    He spoke one word.

    “Hello,”

    Misery howled.

    With my hands, she wrenched

    The bread in two

    Threw it at him

    It bounced, rolled off,

    Using my hands, She hurled

    The milk to the ground,

    Stomped.

    Milk spurted everywhere

    And bled down the street,

    Forming lacy ribbons of white.

    Six-

    Chest heaving, I stood there,

    Fists clenched

    Feet wide.

    The man just

    Looked at me.

    Misery laughed

    with my mouth

    Filling the silence

    With her horrible laughter.

    Seven-

    The man smiled,

    chuckled,

    Began to laugh,

    and as he laughed,

    Misery’s faltered and then fell

    Still.

    With my legs, Misery backed away.

    But I fought

    I wanted to stay.

    I wanted to listen to his laughter forever.

    It was like sunshine. It lit up my darkness

    Like a firework, but unlike a firework, it

    Lingered

    In the air.

    But Misery had to get away.

    The sunlight-His laughter

    began to itch and burn

    It hurt!

    We had to run away,

    Far, far away.

    When we reached the park

    I collapsed near my bench.

    Eight-

    Misery wasn’t there.

    Where was She?

    I felt so alone, so hungry.

    This wasn’t normal hunger,

    I was going to die unless I got something to eat,

    Unless Misery came back.

    I slapped my hands, my face.

    I snatched a small rock,

    and tried to cut myself with it.

    My blood seeped down my arms,

    crimson and thick.

    I passed out, wishing Misery was there.

    Nine-

    I woke.

    The moon was rising.

    The Man was sitting on my bench,

    My bloodstained bench.

    But wait. Where were my bloodstains?

    Looking at my arms, they were smooth, whole, unblemished.

    There were no scars, no blood.

    But his robe-it was filthy.

    It was so beautiful before,

    So white, so pure.

    But now-disgusting.

    I rose, dropping the rock, which I held in my clenched fist.

    Sat gingerly next to him.

    I wanted to apologize,

    I felt so ashamed.

    Sitting next to him? I wanted to throw myself at his feet.

    As I opened my mouth to speak,

    As I moved to the ground,

    He placed his hand on my shoulder.

    I stopped.

    He began to speak. He told me that he loved me, so so much.

    When he finished

    I was almost in tears. I whispered, “What about Misery?”

    He said, “I have fought Misery.

    I have fought pain.

    I have died for you.

    I have won everything for you.

    Please do not dwell on what you have done. Look to the future. Look to me.”

    I was crying.

    I felt like I had been

    Shattered

    And seen something new behind the glass,

    Rising like a phoenix from the ashes of death.

    Ten-

    We stood.

    I took his hand.

    He led

    Me up.

     

  • #6941
    pookajordan
    pookajordan
    Participant

    The flow does need worked on, but part of that is how my character talks.

    Again, I’ve never cut myself.

  • #6949
    SirJML
    SirJML
    Participant

    Woah.

    • #6953
      pookajordan
      pookajordan
      Participant

      Good woah? Please tell me more of how this poem made you feel and what you think needs adjusting. Does the flow of it need adjusted?

      But thank you. Seeing that response made my day.

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