Poetry Tone & Voice

A dramatic monologue—a poem in the voice, and therefore from the perspective, of your unnamed speaker.


Grace

I am here when she wakes,
bruised and pale.
Her tangled hair covers her eyes.
She lies silent,
but she doesn’t hear me.

She leaves,
walks past the beauty around her.
Deaf to the birds’ song.
Blind to the blooming tree,
and she doesn’t see me.

She gives her body to him,
battered and bruised,
for a bag of rocks.
My hand is on her shoulder,
but she doesn’t feel me.

She smokes,
shakes and convulses.
Her eyes roll back in her head.
She falls down to the floor,
and I love her.