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First Call

A Poem From the Play 'DEAD WRONG' by Ryan Michelle

By Ryan MichellePublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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Photograph by Ryan Michelle

To all those who cannot read this.

First Call—A Poem From the Play 'DEAD WRONG' by Ryan Michelle

I was walking on a Thursday

Through the cemetery square

The eyes rolled back on Jesus

Hanging twelve feet in the air

Water stands in waiting

For a daring sinner’s pleas

But there will be no gasping

Or confessions spilled on knees

I’m tightening the casket

A stranger’s vehicle and more

Flowers devouring the room with color as they wilt upon the floor

My dress so crisp and perfect

As I lean against cold stone

Surrounded by this city

Yet perfectly alone

Emotions float like molecules

I’m breathing each one clean

Then I slink into the corner

Hoping I remain unseen

You come calling on a Friday

My hopes renewed and they restored

As I accepted your thoughts gladly

And my heart began to soar

I rest in dead hands, calmly

The last of warmth about to fade

Tighten up the gurney

Bed impressed from where they laid

The clock it’s loudly ticking

To remind us it overcomes

Laughing at its movement

At the cease of heart and lungs

All the dears they are goodbying

As we roll into the hall

The bell it rings behind us-

You won’t remember this at all

Now I am just the driver

I’ll sing to you this final ride

You can tell me all your secrets

‘Cause now you’ve got nothing more to hide

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Ryan Michelle

Actor | Writer | Adventurer

11/2 | O'ahu, Hawai'i

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