Mourn Poem by Victoria Annette Bailey
Mourn
She bites the bullet
That tore his skin
The roses thorns
A deadly sin.
A blind man's work
Stole his breath
And left her here
To mourn his death.
A smoking gun
Made her tears
Stories of
Their teenage years.
The times he held her
As she cried
From when they laughed
To when he died.
Friday, October 6, 2006
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5/4/2024 7:04:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
