Wednesday, 18 January 2012


I don’t want childhood to be a perfect memory
I want to stain it
If it won’t be believed
Go in to a room
Full of tapes
Grab the VHS
And pull the tape
With my teeth
Cutting in half the body
Knowing that it won’t be a movie
Knowing that the pain will infect
The people on it
That their childhood
Which lasts for seventy years
Will be gone
And they will have no arms


This poem gives me shivers.

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