Zog Gascoigne
Oxfordshire, UK
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Someday

If he wins the war someday,
Then my body he will slay,
Give my mother my sould to take,
Nevermore shall i wake.

My Funeral
Don't let him go,
A pretence of grief, a convincing show,
Only now does he care, too late,
We're not there.

No regrets, soon he'll forget,
What went on behind closed doors,
The blood on the ceiling, the wall, the floor.

A year or two down the line,
And he'll be doin' fine,
Have a new life, a kid and a wife.

But oneday the mask,
Will crack and shatter,
And they'll see,
Who he really is.

*Not too sure about this one, what do you think? * **Don't even remember writing this...**
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COMMENTS
Elizabeth T. 10 October 2008
I think it is amazing I can feel the anger you express Great job
0 0 Reply
Manonton Dalan 10 October 2008
secret is always bound to discovery maybe tomorrow or someday there's no way of telling besides guilty feeling. thanks.md
0 0 Reply

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