Classical Jazz '05



The Unknown

Face it.

No more sugar-coated lullabies.


melted into pandemonium,

one big mess spilled across the floor,

and you freeze at the sight of

blood dripping from the wrists

of the least expected.

The shattered bones of dishonesty

crunch under your feet with each step

as you get closer to the edge.


Stereotypical smiles sewn shut

by the liquid cold thread of your bitter words

leaking from the corners of closed lips,

and in front of blind eyes

she’ll hit the linoleum,

where the bruises and scars

will finally give a lackluster but true meaning

to everything behind once glimmering eyes.



            I wasn’t really sure what this poem was about when I started. By the time I was done, it was more or less about admitting to myself and others the reality of depression, because there are so many people who won’t even admit that there is ever anything wrong. They try to come off as  happy people, and half of the time they are fooling themselves. I’ll admit, I put off this poem until the last minute, starting at 11 o’clock at night. I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing. I started writing down ideas until I finally decided what I was going to write. Once I started, it all came together pretty quickly and I was done a lot earlier than I expected.

I included enjambment, end-stop, metaphor, and imagery.


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Artist: Maura Crock
School: North Allegheny
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