The Smell of Spring

Sun, 10/28/2018 - 16:12 -- dlinton

You're dead and now it's my turn to make her stronger, to raise her up, to make her wiser.It's my turn to bend what you have broken, to fix the girl that you have demolished. To lead her where she needs to go, to hold her when she cries because even in the after life you molest her mind. But I am here to change that, to change her. To hold her hand and stand amongst a crowd screaming out the wrongs that you have done. To be her voice till she has become strong enough to speak for herself. To make sure no one will ever see you as good. To let you know that God is not the only one judging you now. I am glad you are dead, because now my sweet beautiful friend can find out what it is like to smell the spring again. 

This poem is about: 
Our world


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