Breath is short,
While tears are long.
The cycle of loss repeats.
All he gave was a honk,
A dead body to bury.
I tried to stay strong,
While my sisters all cried.
I tried to stop tears,
But the memories are haunting the thought.
I've texted and called, but no friends picking up.
I could have let her in,
But I didn't.
My brother was mad and he cursed the tears in his eyes.
My dog had a panic attack, she witnessed it all.
No one has answered.
No one has called.
It's hard to breathe.
It's hard to stop the tears.
And it's really hard to look at the hole that's freshly dug.
BINABASA MO ANG
Drowned By the Ashes
PoetryI don't remember when I started drowning. I was probably just born in the water. *TRIGGER WARNING!!!* My earliest poetry that evolved as time went by.
