Turtle Death by Hannah Essink A lie would paint that I want it not Sometimes a fabricated portrait is better Than dropping down the mask to see The beautifully hideous truth of turtle death Society conditioned me for failure Grown-ups then before I came to that time All told me the same, encouraged the day dreaming Of my turn someday - they did not talk about turtle death Someday is turning to no day so slowly But the dream is not a complete lie Which makes it all the worse – true for some But may very well never be for me thanks to turtle death My dream is breaking – why is this so? Is it a tasteless joke shoved down my throat? But no indeed, there is a cloud of blindness on the world today Times have changed and people with it – turtle death What is this hope in my soul that keeps rising? I do not heed the declarations of society as it creeps closer I see it and sometimes despair, but ever I strive for hope I wish to rise above it all and defeat this turtle ...
Flying Island is the Online Literary Journal of the Indiana Writers Center, accepting submissions from Midwest residents and those with significant ties to the Midwest.