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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Family · #1138809
This poem is about my dad who died at such a young age and he will never get to grow old.
If mom and dad hadn't got into a fight,
then he wouldn't have been there on that hateful dark night.
With the echo of the gun shot still ringing out,
quick call the police, someone needed to shout.
There was no movement, not even a sound,
to what they discovered, to what they have found.
His lifeless body laid fragile on the ground,
with people stairing and looking all around.
Before they knew it, it was all to late,
for this young soul, that the Lord had to take.
People began to scream from fear,
with faces stained from salty wet tears.
The sirens blair from a far,
with his spirit disapeared behind the stars.
Thoughts were running through everyones minds.
Why did this man commit such a unforgetable crime.
That thoughtless man shot that gun,
that took my father and the Lord's son.
I've never found it in my heart to forgive,
for not letting this incredible man live.
I never understood what happened that day,
until years later when I became of age.
He'll never get the chance to grow old,
his young soul walks past the gate of gold.
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