do thoughts of me exist
in my fathers mind?
are there unclear answers
he'll never ever find?
do visions of me live
in my mothers head
of what i looked like nearly dead?
do memories of me appear
in my sisters process of though
as the results of only
a child self taught?
does reality rest easy
upon one loving soul?
i have escaped from
within their dirt filled hole
... though ...
i stumbled quickly into
my own shallow grave
with a tombstone that
i'll never engrave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem