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Pale and Frail

By: John Kaniecki

When I was committed

In Saint Clair’s

Every morning
I heard the sacrilegious prayers

Our Father
Hail Mary

It was really scary

And there was the girl

Pale and frail

Isolated in her private hell

We all knew she was far from well

Like a zombie

Almost comatose

And she would reach out and grab my arm

And if like magic or a grand gift of charm

Color would fill her face

And she’d smile a grin of grace

Maybe even to laugh
If she wasn’t rebuked by the staff




And Glen said she must have been raped

Or something worse

I wonder if she ever escaped

Her perpetual curse


It is a shame
I cannot recall her name

Or maybe I was never told

But her haunting image

Is secure in my mind

If only this world could be kind


That is the tale

Of the girl

Pale and frail

     John Kaniecki writes prose and poetry. His poetry has appeared in over one hundred outlets. John's poetry is always in a state of flux and he is always reading and learning. John hopes to bring his poetry into this new age and then some. He works as an assistant to a lawyer and also a peace activist and a minister in the Church of Christ.

     John has over a dozen books either published by small publishers or self-published. His poem “Tea With Joe Hill” won the Joe Hill Poetry Contest in 2012. 

     Please be sure to visit John Kaniecki's websites at and

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