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Tara Jenkins

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Member Since: Mar, 2009

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by Tara Jenkins

Tuesday, March 24, 2009
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Recent poems by Tara Jenkins
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I read this poem at the Green Mill Tavern--where Al Capone used to hang out here in Chicago--and the audience thought this sweet girl was doing horrible things to herself before they go to the end to discover...

I had tears running down my face and screamed with each painful blow.

It hurt so much, why continue the torture?

There's a goal here, I remind myself, as my nose starts to run.

The pain makes me go cross-eyed, but I forge on.

This is sick, I say to myself. Why would anyone do this to themselves?

But nevertheless, I continue.

Ouch. Ouch....OUCH!

I've had enough. I throw the small silver tool across the room and threaten my reflection with a closed up fist.

I sniffle, wipe the tears from my face, retrieve the tool and begin again.

I see a small dot of blood begin to grow larger and I wonder if it's worth it.

Just a few more, I tell myself. One, two, three, oh, and that one...four, five, ARRGHH!!!

My eyes are overflowing with tears and the pain is an annoying, sting.

But I've done it.

I've plucked my own eyebrows.


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