I am sorry
that all those years ago
you died
on purpose
and that now
you are nothing
but a word, a name, a photograph
in an old green shoe box,
a handful of exaggerated stories
and six, mabey seven,
fond uncertain memories.
I wanted a real father.
YOU ARE READING
My Heart-Shaped Box
PoetryThis is a small collection of some random poetry from my life, I believe that in reading a person's writing you can get an insight into the person they truly are, so this is me and I hope you like who I am
