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The lost-en poems
March 25, 2013
When people are taken,
they usually die.
They may have been hung.
can feel the crack of their neck.
or their throats slashed.
They just sit their bleeding out,
Maybe they were tied up with barbwire
Like spike’s digging into their flesh.
They can feel their pulse like
flickering of fire’s flame.
They just sit their,
feeling so helpless, watching the ground turn red.
as they blacken out,
they mutter,
till death bring me down.
People go psycho.
© Ariana R., New Orleans, LA
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