They tell me.....
I'll be writing her final stanza soon...
A mother holds her dying child in her mind,
heart and soul...
In the spinning barrel
a cancer bullet hides...
Anxiety
It's a place way deep inside you...
If I tell you to sleep with open eyes
Will you still dream of me dying...
I’ve been told many myths
about death...
Tho' I have aged, her grave appears as new;
Instilled in time with time that stole her youth...
I succumb to the overwhelming shutdown
and my mind begins to slow as I realize...
We wash our hands with
the souls of the forgotten...
On a lonely path one must take
Waiting for ones soul to break...
In a town where no one goes,
In a yard where nothing grows...
Cracked mosaic pavements
Slow rolling tears...