deepundergroundpoetry.com

To My Wall

Cloud swells in my chest, hurt
gathers for release to my healing;
A father's gift.

Sharp pains in my eye reflect a fight
unwanted and unneeded, because
tough is not fist endurance.

My worth is not there, never was. How
could a kid ever understand a mans
war and kill smells?

Dirty words were color and feelings
breath is sacred to those once
denied, and fuck you.

He's mine now. We hug every morning.

Your love of freedom of speech, those
old copies of Editor & Publisher,
my place to escape in books...

I want you to know, I wrote a book.

And there is a dedication page, and I
broke the rules, not mom, not King,
not America, not you...

I dedicated it to me and cleansed it with my tears.


Chris Whitenack © 2014
Written by chriswwriter
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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