Poem -
W R I T E
Oh, how the troops would like
To shoot you dead
To unhear you speak
Dark truths unsaid, lest
All you do is poison air
Bring a blackness down
On the living there
Get over it, it's not that great
Do we all not end at...
Somewhere's gate
Its been four weeks yet, you
ramble on
We are tired now of the
mourning song
So, you smile at them
Say, you're fine...ok...
Let them hurry past, go
About their day
Speak no more of 'it'
Share no more the gloom
Write it out instead in
Your own bedroom
M Price (2020) 4/1/21
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Comments
HUGS!
❤️❤️❤️
Hugs
Hugs
Oh Marion... I think you should be able to grieve how you want and need to grieve. It is insensitive of people to suggest otherwise.
We are only too pleased to be able to read your writing here on Cosmo. I know it is all fuelled by the terrible and unfair loss you have suffered, but then arent all writers fuelled by some sort of something that injures their heart and soul? So, my dear friend, write away. Write on and on and never stop. I feel privileged to be able to read the words you share with us. Huge hugs x