tagNon-Erotic PoetryKu Klux Grandpa

Ku Klux Grandpa


It hit me like a six ton truck,
breaking my voice and piercing my heart,
tasting of watered shampoo.

Lights turn on bright,
the smell of years old garbage strong.
It wraps around my throat
and the noise gets louder.

The taste of anger melting
my chocolate body from the inside.
The red card of hatred
played out.

He is as accepting as
a seven shoe of a nine foot.
I wait in hiding
feeling betrayed.

I realize that
I am an exception to him.
I will have to
avoid certain places.
The hatred secured within
when exceptions come to visit,
remembering lost times
of hidden hatred.

All the while these rocks
scream and hurt me.
My voice broken off
in my leaking heart.

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byBrownsugah© 4 comments/ 2117 views/ 0 favorites

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