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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #2116681
A poem about my Grandmothers suicide.
Fifteen years and I still hear your voice.
A broken heart, you made your choice.
Stand up and fight, you have to try,
instead you chose to die.
White hot knife to the heart,
your suicide tore me apart.
All attempts have failed,
the devastating ship has sailed.
I will never be the same,
carrying my share of blame.
Maybe if i loved you more,
your heart wont be so sore.
Maybe you would have stayed,
if we knelt and prayed.
Now all i have is a gaping hole,
where you tore yourself from my soul.
Life's hard trying to be a man,
since the suicide of my Nan.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2116681-Fifteen-years