I'm trying to pick up the pieces
That you left with me
When you stepped away from time.
I'm trying to not repress
The emotions that set us free,
But this perpetual emptiness robs me blind.
They say that most sad poetry
Loses deepest meaning
When it starts to rhyme.
Even artists have bigotry;
You find them leaning
On words that are less than kind.
But these words have meaning to me;
I have to get them off of my chest.
You once said that my writing makes me unique…
I wish I could tell you about the people I'll meet.
I wish I could show you that I can be the best.
I wish you could still hold me.
I wish that wishing worked this way;
That I'd get my wish on the first try.
Maybe then… Things wouldn't be so very bleak…
At the end of the day, my wishes fade
Into my pillow with the tears I cry.
Mom, I wish you could see what I see.