I hear the murmur of rain on the roof. She steadies herself
against the wall, her ears ringing a dying song.
The air smells of decay as she moves along the edge, blood
trickles out of her nose and she suddenly freezes like a scolded child.
The room moves without her, and her legs begin to quiver, drunken
with shock, locked down tight like a prison cell, they shudder.
I hear the rain falling harder now. She looks toward the door.
Could she make it? Would she go through the door, into
the nameless arms of the world, leaving her fear and home behind?
She has nowhere to go, but things do their howling in all places,
slipshod drifters in thankless alleys shriek above the darkness
and sometimes their lives come to shattering.
I hear her uneven breathing over the drumming of rainfall.
She moves closer to the door, edging toward her escape.
I know you. You’re the one that’s been banging the walls,
the one that’s been lying to everyone about your face.
You’re the one that’s rattling the walls with your despair,
screaming for it to stop, the hideous fists to end it once and for all.
It’s pouring rain. Her trembling hands touch the door knob.
The streets will be unkind to you, the alleyways make thieves
of all who stay there. The smell mocks them and the
people scoff as if they’re murderers. Maybe they are.
They would dine on your fear with their faces of steel-
She slams open the door and runs out into the world screaming.
© 2009 mrp/thepoetryman
against the wall, her ears ringing a dying song.
The air smells of decay as she moves along the edge, blood
trickles out of her nose and she suddenly freezes like a scolded child.
The room moves without her, and her legs begin to quiver, drunken
with shock, locked down tight like a prison cell, they shudder.
I hear the rain falling harder now. She looks toward the door.
Could she make it? Would she go through the door, into
the nameless arms of the world, leaving her fear and home behind?
She has nowhere to go, but things do their howling in all places,
slipshod drifters in thankless alleys shriek above the darkness
and sometimes their lives come to shattering.
I hear her uneven breathing over the drumming of rainfall.
She moves closer to the door, edging toward her escape.
I know you. You’re the one that’s been banging the walls,
the one that’s been lying to everyone about your face.
You’re the one that’s rattling the walls with your despair,
screaming for it to stop, the hideous fists to end it once and for all.
It’s pouring rain. Her trembling hands touch the door knob.
The streets will be unkind to you, the alleyways make thieves
of all who stay there. The smell mocks them and the
people scoff as if they’re murderers. Maybe they are.
They would dine on your fear with their faces of steel-
She slams open the door and runs out into the world screaming.
© 2009 mrp/thepoetryman
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