why
you sit therelaughing at me
as you start hitting me
then you run to the kitchen
grab a knife
i struggle to keep the knife from going in me
you win soon after we start fighting
the knife stabbed be 33 times
i felt every time the knife entered
when im dead you take me 30 miles from home
and start digging a whole
big enough for me
when the whole is dug you take me out of the trunk
you are you still hitting me im dead now
you drop me in the hole
3 days later a farmer starts planting corn
he hits me with the shovle not knowing i was there
when he does he calls the police
they catch you why didnt you want anyone to know i had you baby?
it wouldve been easier than spending life in jail.
Poetry by elizabeth white
Read 575 times
Written on 2006-12-17 at 23:30
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Rob Taylor |
