(Note : This poem has got nothing to do with the ongoing situation. This is MY SITUATION, I am imagining my own death. The reason why I changed my gender in the poem shouldn't matter anyway. )
He didn't respond to her mothering
The tender hands reaching his face
As he lay cold and dead
He deserved this brutal death
Fighting a war against no one
Killing hundreds of people
But I don't feel sorry for him
I feel sorry for his mother
To see her son die in her own hands
The fingers are pointing to his mother
It's her fault today (to love him so much )
for all the crimes her son committed
In fact it really is her fault
she should have killed him at birth
all he did was wound anyway
But it's her fault to love him so much
To wait by the door with longing eyes
while her son caroused with someone
I feel sorry for his mother ; for she loved him so much
It must have been heartbreaking
to see her son die in her own hands
YOU ARE READING
Reaper In The Dusk.
Thơ ca| Compilation of poems about depression｜ I present you the wounds that never showed on me which are deeper than anything that bleeds. This is my only chance to escape free a penalty for my deeds. My head is a very dark place. Which needs to be cared...
