Here is the death of the son you never had
the hand you never touched
the face you never stroked
here is the morning after
his bruises you never tended
the laughter you never shared
and here are the tears he'll never feel
your eyes he'll never see
whispers he'll never hear
the apologies
will squirm in his coffin
with the letters you never wrote.
A contest entry
- Asleep In The Arms Of Anger by Redrusty66.
500 points, ended May 6, 2008, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think?
Comments
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Wow, depth in all senses of the word, very much an instigator of thought. Well done.
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Awesome work. Packed a nice puch for a short piece. Eerie and haunting lines provide for a very engaging atmosphere. Thanks for the great read.
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