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The Death Walk
Walking the narrow path of death
My feet amble down the obscure and dim street
The gashes on my soon-to-be corpse throbbed
The gore dripping from my body drizzles all over the concrete
The distinct smell of sulfur wafting through the air
Sweat trickled down my face from the heat
I looked at the dewy green grass, I wanted to take a seat
Suddenly, I couldn't breathe
My life was miserable as a teen, I had no-one there
Death was only truly fair
I watched the blood seep from my putrid body in the morbid heat
My last thought was, " What do people remember what happened on this street?"
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Hey. If you read this and know some of my other poems, you know that I'm quite a fan of writing about some deeply personal and experienced situations through poetry. Poetry to me is an escape from the reality of my ultimately challenging life. When I started to think about how I used to walk with some of my old friends down the streets in my old town at night, I grabbed my poetry book and envisioned a teenage girl who had struggled with feeling like nobody had ever understood the depth of her pain. This was quite an act of vulnerability which I had felt at moments.
Originally, My plan was to include her background story behind all of her life, shortly, to give my readers more of an emotional and intellectual connection, but I mostly based the poem on her Physical Pains. Many people could look at this poem and see a completely opposite version of what I originally wrote about.