he died, they cried.
i watched from a church pew.
daughter is broken, son is chocking. wondering where their father has gone.
to heaven his spirit has flown.
unless evanescence isn't in existence.
i wonder what shall become of broken children when their father is gone.
my father wiped away his tears.
and i couldn't help but wonder why,
he didn't cry for his own lack of life.
YOU ARE READING
red-stained fingertips
Poetryprose and poetry and blood and romance. a fucking stupid combination. ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ TW: some poems mention suicide, self-harm, homophobia, and eating disorders started in september of 2021 #4 in poetry 8 . 8 . 23
