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Literature Text
The smell of
the fresh green
grass, last cut
of the season
The cotton of
your red stained
shirt billows in
the swift breeze
The bark of
the neighbour’s dog
threatens you and
echoes for blocks
The grey pavement
surrounds, engulfs you
knocked down and
laughed at too
The taste of
the copper blood
dripping down your
tear drenched chin
Why did he
hit me again?
What did I
do to make
him so mad?
the fresh green
grass, last cut
of the season
The cotton of
your red stained
shirt billows in
the swift breeze
The bark of
the neighbour’s dog
threatens you and
echoes for blocks
The grey pavement
surrounds, engulfs you
knocked down and
laughed at too
The taste of
the copper blood
dripping down your
tear drenched chin
Why did he
hit me again?
What did I
do to make
him so mad?
- -
A quick little one about bullying. It's supposed to a sensory poem of some sort, I suppose. Smell, touch, hear, see, taste was what I was going for. I don't really know if I got a proper touch in there though.
Anyhow, I liked the way it turned out.
A quick little one about bullying. It's supposed to a sensory poem of some sort, I suppose. Smell, touch, hear, see, taste was what I was going for. I don't really know if I got a proper touch in there though.
Anyhow, I liked the way it turned out.
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Comments3
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So you're really against bullying too, huh?