what I wrote right before my granny's funeral.

Front Row

Sitting in an ill-fitting suit
One can only guess at the circumstances
That brought me to this church
The truth-God's ending of one woman's pain
May seem to be ordinary, unremarkable even
To the one boy in the front row,
The truth burns his very existence
As spiritual acid on unwilling skin
Yet escape is impossible.
So now, in the ever-uncomfortable shirt and tie
The boy peers out at the world
Through sorrow-tinted eyes.
Trying to be the strong adult he is expected to be
And hiding the devastated shell of a being he is.

Poetry by Dominic
Read 729 times
Written on 2007-03-08 at 05:15

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i found this good..
not just good awesome..
i mean omg..
i loved it..
keep up the good work