Casket lying open
In the gold dark mornings light
Her face, it's so cold and white
Hoping this isn't real....hoping...hoping....
Faint so faint, the people voices ring in my ear....
I expect her suddenly appear
And tell me this is just a dream..
But i know it isn't, I can still hear her scream.
All i see is a burr
Nothings real any more
Like I'm fast forwarding to where i get to her
But i keep going back to the image of her bloody body on the floor
And then i too
Am just a body on the ground
You...you...i need to get to you...
I utter no more sounds...
by Michael Carlson
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem