- for J.A.D. (1964 - 2003)
As I enter the room, I see it,
that little black box on the table.
My eyes start to fill with tears,
My emotions become unstable.
I find it hard to fathom,
that little box holding a man.
Nestling what is left of him,
because of lack for a better plan.
This Box which holds the ashes,
of a loving and caring father.
This display his final rest,
Never again will he have a bother.
I kiss the box and walk away,
reminising of our last days.
Wishing things could be different,
as they should in so many ways.
-Rebacca J.
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DARK
Breathless whispers echo in my ears,
gloating over my sorrows,
dwelling on my fears.
Thier unseen putrid hands,
grabbing at my soul.
Pulling in every direction,
patiently waiting to take thier toll.
I tell them "shut -up, leave me alone,go away"
They laugh and whisper "not until the last day,"
"beg and cry, we love it all, it pleasures us when you fuss and bawl, "
"we feed on this, you see my dear, for we trully are your worst fear!"
I give in, they take control.
I know there's no use to fight it.
They always win,
particulary when there's no light lit.
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