So many times we’ve decided, “Its time we split up! ”,
But then we find we just can’t give up.
It’s not for each other; it’s for the children we care,
On them it’s unfair,
They stand in the corner helpless and bare.
There’s so much to remember my daughter, my son,
But all I can think of is myself on the run,
And who am I trying to get away from? You or the grave?
When I look deep inside it’s myself I’m trying to save!
Selfish! Cruel!
Like a stoney hearted fool!
I can feel it’s icy coldness against my temple as I level the gun,
And a voice deep inside saying, “No! Think of your son! ”
As my finger tightens on the trigger,
I can see the out line of his little figure,
With his hands clasped together,
As he says goodbye…forever!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good write, thanks, goodbye.. I invite you to read my poems and comment.