Poetry

Rebecca White: Away He Went

Away He Went   My grief is a vine, strangling my heart Locked in an inaccessible vault I can’t feel it directly, it’s so repressed But I know that it’s there, never been addressed It comes out overtly, I’m clinically depressed Who planted the seed, which grew the vine? The devil himself, when he took what was mine Four babies lost to abortion, dead before their time Oh, the devil grinned as I gave consent To have my children killed, I could smell his scent And he took my joy and away he went   Rebecca White

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