I grew up in fear.
Fear he would get hurt,
Or even killed.
Even the thought of him not coming home one day,
Brings tears to my eyes.
He is a loving husband,
He is a role model,
He is my father,
And I will stick by his side,
Even after death,
I love you Papa.
I always will.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
PoesíaI've been writing since middle school as a way to convey how I felt. I've kept these in an old composition book that I still keep by me about 10 years later. I suppose it's time to share and hope maybe it will help someone out there.
