Torment
Images seen through a kaleidoscope,
Days of technicolour dreams,
But drifting in an annihilating vague twilight,
I see bombs spread, expansive as carbon mononxide,
Brutes tease like oil seeping across stained darkened waters.
Blood runs through the tortured trickling fountain,
Child games accuse like a murderous Fascist,
Poisonous threats of an acid swastika,
Red filaments burn through my pure gold skin,
Turning so black no sky could squeak through.
O spiteful water choke me!
Herr God! Herr Lucifer!
Once the heat blazed as bright as shooting stars,
Now the shrieks of Icarus melt unanswered,
Now the cold dagger of love slashes me.
Hannah Lunn, aged 15
year 10
Northampton, England,
February 12, 2000
The Sylvia Plath Forum is administered by Elaine Connell, author of Sylvia Plath: Killing The Angel In The House.
Web Design by Pennine Pens.