The Girl With Scissors Poem by Angelica Duardo

I’m tracing shapes with my hands
And seeing double
I know I’ll get in trouble
If I miss a step
Or grab a sharp end

That day,
I was counting corners in my head
From one through ten
Then I lost my numbers,
I got nowhere after that
And my time was running out

On Saint St. Street I started walking
And found myself a bit exhausted
But I had to meet her
I had to see the girl with scissors

She told me: “get the whitest one for me,
Or else I’ll make you feel the pain in me”
It was not impossible to find white flowers
Though these fields were dark with fire

I knew I had the strength within,
But she kept coming after me
The girl with scissors in her eyes
She made me nervous,
I couldn’t carry out her task

And so she did,
She cut the spirit ropes in me
And I was finish,
I couldn’t see in dark or light
I couldn’t feel my tearing skin

I’m tracing corners with my hands now
Trying to find my way back home
I know it may never come the day when,
When I see that girl once more

I found at last her whitest flower
Hidden deep in flaming fields
Though I can’t see in dark or light
I smell how sweet the truth can be