Poem Hunter


Poem By Eudora M.A.S.S.A.

This is a movie scene,
A scene of my dead life,
Where the victim is me,
Being chased by the knife.

I cause harm to myself,
Because I want to live,
A poor excuse to die,
Nothing else left to give.

The director of this scene,
Decided to change the plot,
She makes me harm myself,
Not a little but a lot.

She made me use this prop,
The one that cuts into my veins,
Told me to carve more scars,
And forget about the pain.

So I take the blade,
Put it to my skin,
Letting go slowly,
Of everything within.

I am nothing but a puppet,
To the hand of the grief,
A bitter little girl,
Harming to gain relief.

The movie will end now,
And the victim shall die,
This is how evil conquers,
Everyone who is left alive.

She will go on to win an Oscar,
For what she had achieved,
Nobody saw the blood,
Pouring from the award she received.

That blood is mine,
It reminds her I'm dead,
A voice tattooed deeply,
Inside of her head.

Next time you should think,
Before casting a new role,
Making somebody harm themselves,
Is bound to take its toll.

This director learned her lesson,
She no longer directs a new scene,
She has given up hope,
On everything that could've been.

No advice left to give,
To those that are sad,
Just enjoy your life,
Make it the best you ever had.

Listen to the director,
Soon someday you will see,
In the end she was correct,
I know, That director was me.

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Comments (1)

Nice poem i like it check mines too