The teardrops fall,
Light glints off their curves,
As they fall like bombs,
Spiraling towards the earth,
Detonating on impact,
Kicking up tiny clouds of dust,
Pitting little holes of misery,
Into the soil,
To be walked upon,
And obliterated,
By those unaware,
That there is something,
So very wrong
.
.
.
So many in pain go unnoticed, unheard, unseen. For it is too much of an effort for many to just lend an ear for a few minutes. It is a chore to care. That's why you'll never find a self absorbed person who has ever completed suicide. Just my opinion and thoughts the poem provoked in me.
NOW AVAILABLE!
This book is a limited edition, and copies are hand numbered. It will NOT be available through Amazon or other distributors. You must purchase it directly from the author or from this site. It is hard-back (not the spiral bind seen
Share
Print
Save
Follow
