Let's go see what papa made.
Perhaps it's a plane or maybe a cap,
Something nice to wear on our way to the market,
For papa said that one must look their best,
Even if it's for the worst.
It isn't until the clock strikes one and mama hasn't come home.
But papa came with a few skirts wearing a long long face with a big fake smile.
"Wear this." He says.
And we do as we are told,
with no doubt at all or even a single push.
We swept across Earth to a lonely place called CEMETERY.
Mama still isn't home and papa is weeping, quoting her songs.
What the hell is going on?
We look down just to see a grave with a tombstone of our mother's words.
"Loving mother and wife."
With the day she was born to the present where we stand.
Papa holds our hands and tells us mama is no more.
"She is gone." He says, again with a soft weep and remorse.
Another family came to us,
Forever leaving papa alone,
Standing over mama with a big broken heart and an eye for us no more.
Mama is dead,
We come to know.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
Poetry"The universe kissed the stars, who birthed a galaxy of new beginnings." The only way to express beautiful and cynical thoughts is through the delightful invention of simple, and yet complex, poetry. My poems never end, have no defined theme and st...
