Downtown to the local drugstore.

Gets that black- raspberry- liquor.

Likes to spike her fruity drink.

She giggles, likes to act like she cant think.

Presses the blunt to her sweetened – hungry – lips

Hopes to God he will find himself buried in those hips

Drunken stupors they find themselves caught

They’ve weaved the trap they should have naught

Bare naked in his hell bound bed, she cries

Lust stained satin sheets , he got his prize

His soul was awakened black

She could have a heart- beneath the plaque

I watch from the cracked door

Cant look away, but don’t want to see no more

Padre de mi hijo why do you make love to mi hermana pequeña?


Copyright 2013 Hannah Marie

All rights reserved, Inflicted Delusions.


10 thoughts on “Odio

    • Thank you very much Paul, I am so very appreciative! When I write I usually tend to take something from real life that I am upset and create more to the story, I never really liked writing poetry, I like to write in my novels butttttt I caught this poetry bug and cant get rid of it : )

      • Hannah, it is my pleasure to comment on your poetry. I have found that writing from the heart produces the most insightful understandings of our existence, be them through stories or poetry, however, I believe poetry connects us to our souls in way other forms of writing do not.
        I love the idea of exploring my humanity either in three short lines or over a full page. You should embrace this gift, you will discover much about yourself.

        paul 🙂

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