melissaahowells
521,393 poems read
Last Words of No Good Friday Malone
(This poem is based on a real person.)
I got no blue-lined sky, no fresh green feelin' of grass
spreadin' under my feet. I sleeps on a pallet on the floor.
In my beginnin' I was a shine for troubles. My eyes tol' people
thoughts I didn't wanna tell them. They smelt the spice of
fear risin' from mah skin, saw the loneliness drapin' ovah
mah shoulders. Too soon they filled m'mind with their ways
n'rules; my mouth with their stoppers n'pills--Sayin' I'm
not proper 'nuf without 'em. It felt like I was jumpin' a
rope, but there weren't no rope a movin'. I couldn't see the
colors of mah thoughts no more; I couldn't warn myself by
seein' theirs. Here the silence stings me--I'm wrapped all
up in her cocoon. This room is like a spider. Once I had
me a fine job; clothes to be proud in. Folks could see me,
'cause I was dancin' with mah hair flyin' the colors of
sunshine. This concrete floor now is so cold, too hard.
If I rolled off, I'd shatter all over the floor. Then it'd be real
easy for 'em. They could just sweep up all my pieces, then
glue me up to all of those wide white walls of theirs.
These here are the last words of No Good Friday Malone.
Meloo/Melissa A. Howells copyright 2003
I got no blue-lined sky, no fresh green feelin' of grass
spreadin' under my feet. I sleeps on a pallet on the floor.
In my beginnin' I was a shine for troubles. My eyes tol' people
thoughts I didn't wanna tell them. They smelt the spice of
fear risin' from mah skin, saw the loneliness drapin' ovah
mah shoulders. Too soon they filled m'mind with their ways
n'rules; my mouth with their stoppers n'pills--Sayin' I'm
not proper 'nuf without 'em. It felt like I was jumpin' a
rope, but there weren't no rope a movin'. I couldn't see the
colors of mah thoughts no more; I couldn't warn myself by
seein' theirs. Here the silence stings me--I'm wrapped all
up in her cocoon. This room is like a spider. Once I had
me a fine job; clothes to be proud in. Folks could see me,
'cause I was dancin' with mah hair flyin' the colors of
sunshine. This concrete floor now is so cold, too hard.
If I rolled off, I'd shatter all over the floor. Then it'd be real
easy for 'em. They could just sweep up all my pieces, then
glue me up to all of those wide white walls of theirs.
These here are the last words of No Good Friday Malone.
Meloo/Melissa A. Howells copyright 2003