I sometimes wonder what it would have been if I were born right.
To have known from the very beginning that my life would be
meaningful in a room full of lives.
I wonder then, perhaps, if I would be less worrisome.
My mother picks twigs & bones from my hair,
spindly fingers like an old scarecrow.
To her, I was born right.
To her, I am her grave faring firstborn.- a.a.j
YOU ARE READING
Truths I Tell (Poetry)
PoesieA collection of poems which express the love, sorrow, joy, anguish and other such emotions which life has allowed me to feel.