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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #758259
when a child takes up an adults work who knows what might harm might be caused
Buzz! Whire! The engine started,
ratteling in the emptying old forest.
Little stumps of missing trees.
Young Child watching the saws stuttering wheeze.
Father calling 'Big Boy'.
To start a saw is his trial,
It growls and wakes, wakes and growls.
Young child watching from a wooden pile.
Light was falling over,
Boy determined to have a man's work.
His shaking arms holding a cold saw,
Young Child saw it as flesh and bone tore.
'Son!' father
panics.
The forest suddenly silent. But.
The hurtfilled racks of pain.
Young Child knowing how the father felt Blame.
'Don't let me go! Don't let me go...'
But Boy stepped into Lifes last stage.
Young Child knowing that deaths war waged.
Feeling the failing pulse.
Slipped away from the forest trees.
From where it caused a fathers pleases,
Leaving the dead's father's pleases.

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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/758259-Saw-To-Hand