Words Of A Dying Son.

Tell me I’ve lost my mind for thoughts I have none,

Tell me I’ve had it worst for what feels now is no better,

Tell me I am no lesser than a fool to have such debauchery,

Tell me; tell me of such ruin you unrepentantly swore.

Words turned actions of such crass,

That at ounce reaps the soul apart,

Tell me of those thoughts you spoke,

Have you paused and wondered or even care that those might hurt?!?

Tell me now who is aggrieved!? That one left to ruin or the one saying!?

Tell me to clear my assumptions, what proof you want to show!? Where is this leading!?

Tell me; explain some more, why are you doing this!?

To shame me, to ruin those you dislike just because of something you can’t accept!

But have you asked?! Have you done query of your own!?

Have you pondered deep to what may happen!?

Have you tried emptying your cup!? To understand and consider?!

Have you ever tried to at least listen?!

I am tired, I grow stone.

The child battered, he lay wasted & sore.

He wanted to scream and cry but no tears flow & no voice dare to sigh.

For what is left is an empty core; cold, dark & hollow.