Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 8
The food we ordered is gone. Suicide, weight loss, and snow. No one takes Ohio with them. The baby burns itself on a baby it wants to recognize. The void is a bird dreaming in the airway of a ghost. Praying turns me toward prayer. I hurt my son but I hurt my son in front of someone doing the wrong thing with pain. There’s a way to tell god that we think about death.
Barton D Smock
Written by
Barton D Smock  48/M/Columbus, Ohio
(48/M/Columbus, Ohio)   
  85
   Emma
Please log in to view and add comments on poems