My quest for meaning is not lost
I will find the reason
I will avenge him
I swear I will do so no matter the cost
My son was once upon a time a saint
Raised a family
Lived his dream.
How great is the weight of one's mistakes?
If you know them as good
He is a good son
He's always been that way
Why should everything he's done suffer under a mistake?
Should I suffer under the weight of
My son's mistake?
I stand there as they scrub his face from the wall
He's enemy number one
Months after his death
And not one single sympathy call
I swear I never counted the cost
A dangerous path my thoughts crossed
I had a son
I taught a son
What I thought was gained, turned out to be a loss.
YOU ARE READING
:Distorted Beauty
PoetryThis is the beginning stages of a poem book that my sister and I are writing. We encourage comments and we do hope you enjoy it. More is soon to come by: Mikayla & Tiffany Moss
