The Barren Garden Poem by Jimmy Kennan

My child died today.
Who is to blame? Ultimately, no one.
For the decision was ultimately his.
Blood-shot eyes.
Drowned pillow.
Sickened stomach.
Crazy sad angry hysterical minds.
What of the triggers? The environments?
The circumstances
Could I not help?
Could I not stop it?
Comfort is welcome cold hollow awkward.
A mystery like this never unravels.
At least not on its own.
The months-long fog lifts enough for
Hell's Breakloose and Freezeover.
Yes. Yes, I see...
NO!
My barren garden
Crawls with weeds fungus leeches vipers.
But not from within.
Shedlayers expose Lietruths.
Doubleagents with Twofaces.
Is it not enough for me to suffer loss?
This can't be.
Not this.
Not them.
My gut was right. Always is.
I miss my boy.