|
Post by Sleeves on Jul 10, 2013 21:32:28 GMT
Little Jack is an unhappy child from an unhappy family. Father’s wallet is as empty as his heart, and Mother tries to hang herself from the rafters every now and then.
No one sees what little Jack sees. No, their eyes just don’t work like his. He sees the future in smoke, in the dust of ancient grimoires and the ashes of fallen empires.
Little Jack sees Grandmother’s death in the bone-dry autumn breeze. He tells her so. Father scolds while Mother and Grandmother titter and tsk.
Three weeks later, little Jack and his family watch as the earth rises hungrily to swallow Grandmother’s coffin whole.
|
|
|
Post by Arctura on Feb 1, 2014 19:49:53 GMT
This is hands down my favorite poem of yours that I have read.
|
|