Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
A story of a founder Maria Luisa Rosales My grandma felt cold Even with 5 blankets Shivering Unfolds My mother was 21 years of age My oldest sister was 3 months To be conceived best believe At the moment in the hospital She was choking, painful inability Drinking fluids was an impossibility Everyone wondering what could this be? With her dry lips,, my mother Couldn't help but assist her anyway possible She used a wet clothe to damp her lips With water, soon it became harder Unfortunately, she didnt make it No one couldn't take it, wives faked it Later on two days later, My mother found two voo doo dolls Underneath the ground of her own home With my grandmas hair wrapped around The dolls neck, evils wreck had consumed My mothers brothers wife was a witch A careless stupid ***** my uncle would tell Stories of them lighting candles, Performing dancing scandals, rituals Taking part in a wicked ceremony Lastly, my mother always told me Never eat food from anyone or receive Anything, for which it may come with evil True story thee occult is always buried And never spoken of, to disguise what's up above
0
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
My Grandmother
A story of a founder Maria Luisa Rosales My grandma felt cold Even with 5 blankets Shivering Unfolds My mother was 21 years of age My oldest sister was 3 months To be conceived best believe At the moment in the hospital She was choking, painful inability Drinking fluids was an impossibility Everyone wondering what could this be? With her dry lips,, my mother Couldn't help but assist her anyway possible She used a wet clothe to damp her lips With water, soon it became harder Unfortunately, she didnt make it No one couldn't take it, wives faked it Later on two days later, My mother found two voo doo dolls Underneath the ground of her own home With my grandmas hair wrapped around The dolls neck, evils wreck had consumed My mothers brothers wife was a witch A careless stupid ***** my uncle would tell Stories of them lighting candles, Performing dancing scandals, rituals Taking part in a wicked ceremony Lastly, my mother always told me Never eat food from anyone or receive Anything, for which it may come with evil True story thee occult is always buried And never spoken of, to disguise what's up above
Rest In The Heavens
HeartBroken76
Written by
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem