Saving Grace

Footsteps coming and going

I hear them all around

Steps so thunderous and enormous.

Wow, I'm actually being carried through the air,

Strips of lights moving above me.

Now comes the sharp prick.

My arm grows cold.

Next are the blows to the chest,

I actually felt my ribs fold, then break from the pressure.

The last thing I hear is someone say "she's gone."
Posted in Poetry
by Elicia


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