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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1361627
Pain and grief spring forth onto paper, but can never replace the feelings....
Claws of grief and pain
Fears once hidden
surface again
thoughts unbidden.

Why him?
Why this choice?
Why this answer?
Swallowing his voice.

No answer.
No note.
Grief rips hard.
With nothing he wrote.

Forever asking,
Why him? Why now?
What hope have I?
Pain twisting my brow.

Outsider looks in,
sees anguishing face.
A father asks,
"What was my place?"

"Could I have done different?
Was it my fault?
Some way, somehow?
I wish he was here with me now."

"I'd tell him
I loved him,
that he made me proud."
© Copyright 2007 Shaunic (shaunic18 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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