I remember the disappointment,
the loss in battle,
more so the loss of hope.
I missed home.
My mother, she was my home,
she knew what was best for me, she had my heart.
I remember looking over the ledge,
questioning myself, "What if?"
What if the sounds of birds chirping,
the sound of waters movement,
the warmth and comforting feeling of the sun were my last.
Oh how the sun felt on the surface of my skin and the scalp of my head.
The chill feeling as I sat on the rock,
the refreshing feeling of being under the leaves in the shade.
The sound of the waterfall in front of me
as it glided down the stream,
taking everything down with it in the ripple's path.
Being here was all for show,
Why didn't you speak up sooner?
I was young, scared,
I didn’t know what was right,
Or what was wrong.
Why did you put me through it?
You swore you didn’t have a problem,
you swore you did nothing wrong.
I remember the arguments,
the broken glass and the broken walls,
a broken family.
Thinking that leaving my problems,
would solve my fear of you.
But you never left,
you’re still around in my nightmares,
And what I used to call home.
While I sit on that rock and look over the edge,
I continue to ask myself today,
“If It Were My Last” reaches a more personal side of my childhood.
I wrote this poem based off of a picture that was taken of me looking over the water. I remebered the day.