My Hands Are Broken - Poem by RIC S. BASTASA

I play your game
at nighttime

when mothers no longer
watch their
favorite sons

when fathers do not
care because we can already
fight for
what we think is right

they are old and
so they always look
forward to
the last journey

this hour i sit behind a door
unloading a
baggage while you
take some more
what you can not anymore

i won't play anymore
my hands are broken.

Comments about My Hands Are Broken by RIC S. BASTASA

  • Wahab Abdul (9/23/2013 9:57:00 PM)

    hall mark style of your writing.. i love the style....aw (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, September 22, 2013

Poem Edited: Monday, September 23, 2013

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