Her first marriage, my first sorrow,
Was split with an axe
Leaving me to pick out decade long splinters
(Liquor here)
Her second man, the best I think,
Shot himself to end his pain
Piling it onto our shoulders, hearts, and minds instead
(More liquor there)
Her third husband, a month after the last,
When found out gathered his lies and ran away
Leaving a baby and resentment behind
(Now there's liquor everywhere)
Currently her fourth,
And crossing my fingers he's the end
But I don't expect much looking at her past
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Author:
ElenaGrace (
Offline) - Published: July 20th, 2017 13:46
- Comment from author about the poem: I'd like another persons view of this piece, I feel like it could use some editing that I can't give. Requesting any criticism you have.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
Offline)
Comments2
Not sure about giving views for editing as my brain just can't see things like that.
But you told my life in your way, just brilliant but sad I call my mum that too!
My sister now jokes saying when she to old and needs help it will be booze and not food that she'll want.
So my view, a beautiful piece of art!
Elena, I think you said it all, very eloquently. I am no expert, but I think the word "him" could be removed on the last line of the third stanza. We already know who it is, and somehow at least to me it seems to flow better.
Well written, like it!
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