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frank-cotoloPoems
My father was not a sailor My mother was not a saint Each one was just a failure But what they were I ain't Speckled, soiled and hurt Their dying was long and hard Each a droning but dull alert Which still keeps me on guard I am not a sailor I don't believe in any saint I am not a tailor I'm a walking, talking complaint If you see me on the street, shake your head If you get no response, I'm already dead
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Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 2:34 PM UTC
Sonnet #31616
My father was not a sailor My mother was not a saint Each one was just a failure But what they were I ain't Speckled, soiled and hurt Their dying was long and hard Each a droning but dull alert Which still keeps me on guard I am not a sailor I don't believe in any saint I am not a tailor I'm a walking, talking complaint If you see me on the street, shake your head If you get no response, I'm already dead
frank-cotolo
Written by
frank-cotolo
American
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 2:34 PM UTC
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