Creative Writing, Poetry

7/13/06

Seven, thirteen, and zero six, here marks the end of a childhood’s bliss. The father’s call causes a mother’s...

· 17 sec read >

Seven, thirteen, and zero six,
here marks the end of a childhood’s bliss.
The father’s call causes a mother’s fall,
no tears are wasted.

Seven, thirteen, and zero six.
A hero’s death brought no catharsis.
Their silent cry is no goodbye,
words lost are never spoken.

Seven, thirteen, and zero six.
Was the body I kissed in stiff rigor mortis?
A heart which stops is Death’s fruit of loss,
innocence gone is best naturally taken.

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