Allen Ginsberg created something called an American Sentence. It was basically his version of Haiku. I decided to try my hand. 17 syllables, one sentence.

1 The smoke is thick and black as I look down to find a hole in my chest.

2 The ink upon my skin tells tales of downfall and of recovery.

3 I watch my children playing sports, trying to be the best they can be.

4  My smile hides the pain inside
as I fall deeper into despair.

5  Words can cut you deeper than a knife shoved directly into your heart.

6  Like the snake, I shed my skin and grow, leaving my past where it belongs.

7  The wood of the cherry tree smells sweet and reminds me of better times.

8  He stole my life and resides within my old house, laughing all the while.

9 I don’t know if I was born to write, but I will try my best to please.

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