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T i m e - B o m b

"Stand up straight..."

By Natasha DilenaPublished 7 years ago 1 min read
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Poetry written in a city. Don't even remember writing this but I can still feel the emotion behind each word and quotation mark. 

"Stand up straight. Hands on your sides. Chin up and smile at all times. Tuck in your stomach, and pretend to be happy." These are the words I live by.

"Wipe your tears. Don't worry, nothing happened. Nothing ever happens here." I guess I'm doing just fine.

"Why is this hurting though? Mother, I'm in pain."

"Shhh, darling. No you're not. It's ok."

I trust in your word mother. Perhaps it's only my day.

I smile for you all, and wait for the applause.

I stand up straight, and think, "They caught the bait."

They come up to me, with their masks, and idolize my presence.

"Why do they love me so much?" I wonder to myself.

"Your daughter is amazing. Isn't she stunning? Such an example," are the words from hell.

Ok, I guess I am doing everything right. My mother seems to be satisfied.

Dissensions arise, as soon as the front door is shut. Sharp words cutting through each other's skin. Shady secrets being brought up. I haven't even heard of.

The tears of torment, being shed. The yells of distress being spread.

Quick, they're looking. Get in place or they'll start talking again.

Make sure things are in check, or they'll get suspicious.

But, wait, just a second ago you were vicious?

Doesn't matter. Act natural. Put on these façades. Just smile and wave. I smile, as hard as I can. The tears of blood inside me, can't resist the stance.

Tick-Tock. My chest, is a time-bomb, about to go off. I can taste death mother, help me please.

No honey, that's ok. You'll be fine. But don't tell anyone about that line.

I can't breathe. I'm suffocating. Eight, seven, six. I feel like I'm falling on bricks.

My family of wolves, disguising as sheep. Where is the sanity?

Five, four, three. Please, I'm begging, pleading, and on my knees.

Her warm veneer is oblivious, and her eyes are filled with tease.

Two. The illusion is gone.

One. To the trap I was drawn.

All I wanted, was to make something out of myself before my life was over. But, it's too late. There's no time left, for me to wait. I was destined to explode.

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sad poetry
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About the Creator

Natasha Dilena

Writing isn't just typing a few words on a page. It's about siting back, and watching your characters come to life.It's about feeling the emotion behind each word you jot down. I don't just write. I feel. Hope you guys enjoy my writing :)

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