When grandpa died... Though he was the only one in my rather short childhood, who left good memories...
I didn't cry at his funeral . Even though it hurt, and... Well I just had no more tears by then I guess.. well penned b
As Hemingway said, "All true stories end in death". I suppose that is true of poetry as well. When the words come from deep inside our soul death is always there, lurking, waiting, watching. Who will cry when I die? I wonder. I enjoyed your poem.
When grandpa died... Though he was the only one in my rather short childhood, who left good memories...
I didn't cry at his funeral . Even though it hurt, and... Well I just had no more tears by then I guess.. well penned b
I am broken
I am scarred
I am twisted
I am burned
I am corrupted
I am warped
I am distorted
I am me
After all this time? Always......
I was born the first day of the tenth month of the ye.. more..