Voices in the Crowd

A Poem By Hannah D. // 4/29/2014

I know it's my sixth -
this small chocolate cookie -
don’t judge me.
I've a wild notion that
whatever makes me happy
ought to be right.
Yes, it's my eleventh -
don't stop me.

Happiness is
one more sip
of that bitter red liquid
that burns my throat -
don't judge me.
So sweet, settling well,
I raise my voice and yell
in a quandary -
Give it back!
don't stop me.

A spark in my room
lights it up - one sniff
of what is stuffed into this pipe
could get me in prison -
don't judge me.
Inhale it, just like
in my reckless young years
laughter, smoke and love
brainless activity -
don't stop me.
I know what I'm doing.

As I walk up these steps, how dare
you throw those pictures in my face -
don't judge me.
The father's good as dead,
my parents seem to hate me
these past few years I'm never
treated as a lady
Seems I never find any who like me
till I do as I'm told.
Now trapped, a life to live -
don't stop me.

You know by how I act
what I am -
don't judge me.
Don't remind me
how I was treated in my
schoolyard days
just because I'm different.
Can I fight
what Nature intended?
Can I quench that blinding force
of human behavior?
don't stop me.

Don't judge me.
Here in the shadows
Of the loneliest halls
Of the prison.
where I wait
for my fate
remembering when
with my own stumpy fingers
I clutched and watched the light
- a spark, an identity -
pale into chemicals called eyes.
My money for his life
now my own
and still I don't regret
my act
of revenge -
don't stop me.

I am whipped on my bare skin -
don't judge me
as they treat me as the criminal
I am not.
Mocked, flogged, spat on,
forced down dusty streets
a wood post on my shoulders.
They drive nails through
my hands and feet
pinning me to my cross.
With a kick they press
a thorny crown
on my head.
I have done nothing
but don't stop them.
I took this
the spitting
the vinegar
the scars
the death
so that you wouldn't have to.
I placed your burdens on my shoulders
so that you
don't have to be judged
can stop.
Then my Father brought me back
to defeat what I had carried.

You haven't known love
until I've held your face
in my own scarred hands.


This is good! Kinda like the

This is good! Kinda like the one I just posted :)
I liked the idea of different people speaking in each one, it was good. This stood out to me, I related to it:

"As I walk up these steps, how dare
You throw those pictures in my face"

And great job on rhythm and flow.

Maddi | Wed, 05/14/2014

Goodbye? Oh no, please. Can’t we just go back to page one and start all over again?” – Winnie The Pooh


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