What nepenthe do you have to repel my anguish?
Retelling me of my birth with empty words?
Speaking of my youth as if it were your own?
I am neither your son nor the friend you’ve known
With a body made wholly from unearthly bone
What cure do you have to this horrid blight?
That rots my humanity day by day
To mother I’ve become a stranger but in name
And father sees me as his greatest shame
These terrible bones have made their claim
None are to blame for my terminality…
For this is no cancer or sickness anyone has seen
And in the the winter I wonder about the distant spring
Whether men like me that dark space doth cling
If it's truly just death that our peace would bring?!
20th November, 2024
- Author: A.B. Jakobsen ( Offline)
- Published: November 27th, 2024 03:52
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 11
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