Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2015
I sit in the dark.
I hear the cricket's lonesome chirp.
I smell the burnt popcorn wafting from my brother's lap.
I hear his sour words of hate
"I hope you die''
On loop until, again, I cry.
Not because of the hateful words.
Not because he meant them.
Not because my mother did not resent them
But just because
I
                Agree.
Moose
Written by
Moose
428
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems