That son left when harvest time came
Abandoned his own flesh and blood
For an easier path which he sought
And the pain his father endures alone
That selfish son with shaking hands
And cautious watching eyes yet blind
Stumbles and falls upon each pebble
Already the guilt has bore down deep
That ignorant son wretched with guilt
Promised his soon return but
Leisure engulfed and tainted his being
And robbed that fool of his honor
That weak son deserves the worst
Words and stones could possibly inflict
Cry, boy, cry! Cry for your sins!
Cry for the father you’ve abandoned!
Oh you cowardly son of your father
Why have you condemned yourself to this?
Why have you crushed this fragile soul?
Atone for you sins!
Howled the wind.
Jan 26, 2020
Jan 26, 2020 at 2:31 PM UTC
That son left when harvest time came
Abandoned his own flesh and blood
For an easier path which he sought
And the pain his father endures alone
That selfish son with shaking hands
And cautious watching eyes yet blind
Stumbles and falls upon each pebble
Already the guilt has bore down deep
That ignorant son wretched with guilt
Promised his soon return but
Leisure engulfed and tainted his being
And robbed that fool of his honor
That weak son deserves the worst
Words and stones could possibly inflict
Cry, boy, cry! Cry for your sins!
Cry for the father you’ve abandoned!
Oh you cowardly son of your father
Why have you condemned yourself to this?
Why have you crushed this fragile soul?
Atone for you sins!
Howled the wind.
My first poem when i was fifteen. On his passing.