This poem is quite a few months old. I was going through my documents, and I saw it. I wasn't going to post it, but I had a change of heart for some reason. Because of the topic of this poem, I do ask that it not be critiqued. Thanks.

Avianna

A midnight of branches;
they prickled my skin,
and I knew . . .
Beneath this moon the anguish
would grow,
reaching black clouds of waiting tears.
I knew.

She was to be strangled,
this babe of mine, in ghastly hands,
the hold of salvation—
my spoon.
And I do remember the flame,
kissing metal, sweet and soft,
a miss of will. My conscience
said goodbye.

The baby was crying,
but Mommy needed a fix
to drown out the sound.
To help her keep Daddy
away.

I was as red as they come,
painted in silken blood:
yours, Child—
sweet and mine.
And say you didn’t suffer,
they do.
Oh, pretty sympathies,
I beg you spoil.

I knew different.
“Avianna,” I said in my one lapse
of better thinking.
Your name,
I loved it, and it never did touch
your ears.
All for the drugs, Baby,
and I did know.

So rest did not come
like breath to lips;
A fire was waiting in door number
two.
Guilty of all charges—
I was the girl who killed.
I knew I was; I still do.
Pardon for liars,
not murderers,
not blood.

I started crying after finishing reading this poem.
Good job, the emotion is so raw.

Thanks. I appreciate it...

You finally worked up the nerve to post this Bayleigh, I'm glad you did. *hugs you and pats you*