Hammer and grid, soon to find
Pummel and pound, what is found
Slash and cut, my life in a rut
Rend and tear, living in despair
Break and bruise, soon to lose
Bleed and burn, my love spurn
Death and rot, it matters not
Bullet to the head, you'll find me dead. JD
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Author:
Rooster (
Offline) - Published: December 13th, 2015 20:09
- Comment from author about the poem: this poem worried some of my closer friend and family, but it is more than the total of the wording. I and two of my younger sisters were adopted into different homes. We were 6, 5, and 4 respectively. Our youngest sister wasn't aloud any contact with the other two of us. Her "parents" thought it would be better for her. As she entered her early teens she became lost and longed for her lost family that she was denied. Living with a great depression for years in her mid teens she took her own life. This poem in no way expresses the hurt and great lose her sister and I feel, but it is a merger of how on some level she felt and how I feel.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 12
Offline)
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