Low Points

Once upon a dreary time
There lay a wreath
That used to be mine

Now it’s just and angry dust
Lying sacred
On an unholy earth

The mother she came first
A silent stalker
Whose voice had turned to rust

And then he walked through
The father forlorn
Hoping it was an “acceptable” doom

The noose rang tight
And death fought life
With all its might

Now lifeless now limp
I hung upon
The lamps so dim

Even in death
I had disappointed him….

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