I say my grace behind gritted teeth and furled brow.
The anger in me; pent-up somehow.
To vow my soul since child's belief.
Forced upon me like broccoli and beets.
Taught to believe and not to suspect; that what they tell me are lies about death.
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
I say my grace behind gritted teeth and furled brow.
The anger in me; pent-up somehow.
To vow my soul since child's belief.
Forced upon me like broccoli and beets.
Taught to believe and not to suspect; that what they tell me are lies about death.
Request permission to use this poem