I still replay you trying to jump out of
The second floor window, from last Tuesday night.
I can still hear your voice in the back of my head,
When you looked me in the eye and swore
on my life that you didn’t take a sip of your vice.
I didn’t know déjà vu existed till I saw you
Laying on the floor with the angel on your shoulders,
Picking you up from the depths for the third time.
It all still replays for me, Dad.
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Author:
mkate0798 (
Offline) - Published: June 6th, 2017 06:19
- Comment from author about the poem: this is a reflection I wrote after I witnessed my father try to kill himself in front of me for the third time, back when I was about 16 years old.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments2
Good emotive write. Welcome to MPS.
Strong poem, well done!
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