Rare Norm Poetry Presents : Her Cry For Help | Rare Norm

Rare Norm Poetry Presents : Her Cry For Help

As she’s lays against the reused sheets she spreads hers legs and begins to weep.

Feeling his heat she turns her head and lets the tears run down her cheek.

Knowing her kids are home starving she moves her hips a little and pretends to moan.

She’s whispering quietly praying to god she can make this man explode.

It’s over.

She swiftly puts on her cloths, goes home and looks in the mirror wondering why god tends to never hear her.

She thinks “do you hear my cry for help? I feel like I’m alone dealing with these problems I have been dealt.”


She has no one to turn to, no place to run, she sees her best option and turns to a gun.

Feeling like she lost, feeling like her kids would be better off, she puts the gun to her head and click click it didn’t go off.

She’s in shock wondering if thats God’s way to talk. Did he hear my cry for help? Did he stop me from harming myself?

The tears begin to fade, the dark now the opposite of shade, her strength starts to regain.

She feels something new running through her veins ready to face any pains.

With a new outlook on life she kisses her kids and smiles bright knowing there’s a better future in sight.

-The Poet Moe


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