On Chris' Death

My hair is short

I hate my body

Can’t seem to remember

What you told me

Death is coming

Death is near

Something burning

Smell of fear

I hated Him

But not you

Our lives are told

By what we do

Perhaps you tried

A show to tell

Souls afire

Dark Father’s Hell

Churning, crunching

Hungers blazed

Could have stopped

A child not saved

Who’s to blame

Our world, our lies

Gods or evil

Nature denies

Look to accept

Never found

Held fascination

Tightly wound

Who put the

Gun up to your head?

Who pulled the trigger,

Live or Dead?

Mother’s pride

Fallen

Waiting for her only calling

Crimson mask

Eyes raised

To honor a God

Uncertainly praised

Room for forgiveness?

Room for salvation?

Pity a race

Unworthy of Creation

Perhaps a mistake;

Creation of man

Species of destruction

By mortal hand

Reach for answers

Grasp only air

Reach for person

No longer there

Love, lies,

Life, hate

Given a chance

Realized too late

Nothing now

Time forgot

Unable to remember

What thou shalt not


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LeaMoses
Poetry
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writing LeaMoses
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Synopsis
Another poem coming to terms with the death of a friend.
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