Collection of Random Literature

December Seven (Poem)

DISCLAIMER: I wrote this for my literature class, so be aware that I am using a Persona. This is a free verse poem, by the way.

Can you guess the persona? Can you guess all the figurative language I used? Can you guess the societal issue I used?

ENJOY!

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"December Seven"
by K. Jhae

Today marks the seventh day of December.

Eighteen days before Santa's ho ho ho's

would ring around town.

Do you remember when you said that I was your sun

and you are my moon, mom?

I was the most adorable two-year-old in your sweet sixteen party.

You called me Langga, the love of your life.

Mommy, remember when you

told me that you had a big tummy in school?

I ate a lot during lunch because I wanted to be cool

like you.

I wanted to be just like you when I grow up, mommy.

But when I told you this, why did you glare like that? Why did

the skin on my cheeks hurt when you touched it with your hands, ma?

Why are you so angry?

Mommy, what is mock?

Mommy, I don't understand.

Mommy, that hurts. Mommy, what did I do wrong?

Oh,

right.

I am my father's daughter. The daughter of the man who chose his wife over a girl half his age. I ruined your life

just like my father, isn't that what you always tell me, mommy? Especially when you are angry?

Hey mom, I have a question.

Was it my fault? I'm sorry for causing you so much pain. I'm sorry for making you sad every day. I'm

sorry for ruining your future.

But mom, if you weren't ready, why did you

have me? Everyone keeps on

saying that I am a blessing, but I am a

curse aren't

I?

You tell everyone that I am like a flower, but you didn't tell

them that I'm a rotting one.

I'm like a doll, they say,

but I know for you,

I am the modern Prometheus,

I am anyone who will destroy you.

I was inside your tummy when you were fourteen.

Mommy, I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry. I will never do it again. I will never...

do what...

again?

Mommy,

Did you not want me?

I was a good girl wasn't I?

You said I was your sun and moon,

But it's already noon yet I still can't touch anything.

I'm sorry for December seven.

Mommy, I'm sorry for turning you into a monster.

I'm sorry for bringing the worst out of you.

I'm sorry for that day,

You were not at fault. We were both so young. You were only twenty-one,

and I was seven.

You did not know any better.

Winter turned to spring, spring turned to summer, and summer turned to fall.

These four cycles had come and go

since that day. But mommy,

I still can't feel anything but I feel everything.

I can remember how it hurts. Mommy, I

can remember your grip on my neck.

Can you still smell my fear to this day,

mom? I remembered seeing

white. I remembered

seeing the

same bright

light I saw

when I

first

saw

Mommy

please

stop.

Don't

you

love

me?

Mommy,

Today marks the

Seventh Year

since

you

killed

me.