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Forward

6/24/2016

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 The child sat at the mirror.
Hours of reflection trickled,
like boulders on shoulders,
liquefying all of the love.
What would become of the future?
Who would hold the dim light?
The flickering remnants
of humanity? 
Eternal night left bruised 
in the drowning
gutters.
Who would save the quiet,
to grow into stutters amplified?
The child wanted to hear it.
We ALL want to hear it.

.

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Hugs

6/22/2016

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She curved like a circle.
A powerful sphere of
shimmering confidence
that tasted like nectar,
dripping from celestial beings.
I wanted to embrace her.

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Anatomy

6/16/2016

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The tired little heart 
hurt from the silence.
It tried to speak to its
main artery,
but the artery just pumped
and pumped, and looked the other way.
The little heart needed to feel
their connection more than ever before.

"If I'm going to be alone, I need to know where to sever our connection!" the little heart cried.

The artery turned and huffed "I really don't care" and went back to existing.

The little heart grieved,
from exhaustion of trying.
After a mournful rest, 
the little heart began to bleed
from slices of silence.

Soon, there was no connection at all.
Instead, just two cellular structures
inside a silent body.

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Misogyny on the Rocks

6/7/2016

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She drank whiskey.
Lucky me.
Now I can probe her,
and drag her through
the dirt.
Now I can strip her
and use my member
for hurt.
She drank whiskey
and can't quite recall
so I'll not be at fault
for penetrating
her vaginal wall.
While she's picking
pine needles and debris
from her hair,
my white-faced smile
will be everywhere.
I'll shine bright,
like an athletic star,
while she's forced to bear
the brunt of her scars.
Lucky me,
she drank whiskey.
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Six Months

6/6/2016

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Just two seconds.
That's all it took.
Her daily, upended.
Her world, shook.
And now she will 
warn her daughters
before they have 
to grow up.

Take caution where
you place your drink.
Heed your attire.
Don't consume.
Think.

Don't smile pretty
in the company of strangers.
Your lipstick and clothing
invite violating dangers.
They'll say it's your fault.
You should have known.

Listen now, child,
before you're grown.

His future depends
on the choices you make.
Just two seconds, 
is all it takes.
 

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    Author

    Molly Roland is a writer by nature, and she enjoys stepping over the invisible lines society loves to draw.

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  • Home
  • Showcase
  • Audrie Bretl Roelf
  • Molly Roland
  • Wicked Stories Showcase
  • What We're Looking For
  • About
  • Wicked Events
  • The Writers' Props!
  • Writer Bios
  • Hear Ye, Hear Ye!
  • Contact
  • Gallery