i taught a poetry class
to your abused
broken & neglected
children and started to give
them metaphors
similes &
personification
but they knew figurative language
well enough and tried to wear
the face of normal wanting
to be like other kids
--tried to hide the scars
with just inked tattoos and too much
massacre
they read their poems
of incest
of rape
of beatings
of parents in prison
of foster homes
of being hooked on meth made
down a dead end county road
of how life is not suppose
to be at age 15
they learned that giving
human characteristics
to inanimate objects
sometimes lessened the pain
but i changed my lesson
plan when one of them said
hey teach
what good is poetry?
i suppose it is keeping
your wounds close
to the surface so they can heal
quicker
is that it?
on most days
it is
Email this poem to a friend, enemy or jilted lover!
Click to open a print friendly version of this pageRead more work by this author
Read more poems tagged with:
Art Childhood Human Condition
Find more poetry by:
Title - Style - Category - Issue
Read more from the current Issue
Read more from Issue 24

















