A 1940’s Rebel With A Worker’s HeartA Poem by KellyAnnFor my grandfather.You were a man at
thirteen years old, gambling your way
through the streets of Fate left you with
no choice but to grow up. You became a man
with a pack of Lucky’s resting in the
pocket of your grease stained tee. You slicked your
black hair back like you were Danny
Zuko. You were cool. You were strong. You are
falling apart. Rough skin and
fragile bones barely hold you
together. White fuzz combed
over your bare scalp. The doctors say one
more surgery will be the fix, but who knows when they'll finally stop saying one more surgery. You are so small in
comparison to the tougher,
younger you. © 2013 KellyAnnReviews
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2 Reviews Added on June 7, 2013 Last Updated on June 7, 2013 AuthorKellyAnnNEAbout19. English major with a minor in theatre. I write because I feel. I enjoy life in general. There is beauty in everything, therefore there is inspiration in everything. more..Writing
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