if I had to ask

a medieval friar pressing the side of his face against the face of a statue of a religious figure

then I don’t l want you here,

when I was clear that the agony

was becoming too hard to bare,

you made it clear I had to ask,

and force your conscience to glare.

pull yourself away from your life,

saving my sanity would have been nice,

I would like to have been important enough,

not to have to rely on another with grief,

that maybe, just fucking maybe,

you’d do the right thing,

and come to call.

no, instead you waited,

and waited and waited,

hoping I got better of my own accord,

hoping you’d not be lumbered with the grieving,

so I rewrote my will,

made sure you didn’t steal,

the only suffering I could have.

now the days may be rained on,

by tears from the heavens,

walk alone in the crowd,

ever so proud,

their parents never had to endure,

what they came to.

© Copyright 2022 InkeyString

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