stoking the fires of Hell
my father, was, in truth,
In watching, I too,
felt the same,
felt the hurt
of some devils game.
An overtaking, unexplained,
of mental torment,
unsustained by reality,
yet living proof
of the power of mind
and the search for truth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
And what is truth? We make our own truth in the end. I am who I say I am. I make myself who I say I am
very good way you present your idea..Great! ! !
superb lines written with gnawing realization of time running out....
helplessness and the decree of years tackled so well...almost scary
loved reading it
Frightening, when we witness the distress of those we love. A fine poem.
A potent write-the pain shows through. One never knows until we experience it. This is
A very heartfelt write,
Very meaningful write - good one Sally.
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