Haste The Day
I hear whispers,
The snide remarks.
Their perception of me.
How wrong I am,
How less I care -
I'm not what I should be.
Oh, haste the day
When talk of me
Will cause no pain because
No one will say
I'm this, I'm that,
They'll just say what I was.
Submitted: September 13, 2018
© Copyright 2023 Bobi Leutschaft Poitras. All rights reserved.
Comments
Facebook Comments
More Poetry Poems
Discover New Books
Boosted Content from Other Authors
Book / Action and Adventure
Book / Literary Fiction
Book / Thrillers
Boosted Content from Premium Members
Book / Science Fiction
Short Story / Horror
Short Story / Religion and Spirituality
Poem / Poetry
Other Content by Bobi Leutschaft Poitras
Poem / Poetry
Poem / Poetry
Poem / Poetry
hullabaloo22
All these comments, these words can be so painful. And you put your finger on the irony of it all -- no matter what is said during a lifetime, there are few that speak ill of the dead. A very impressive piece, Bobi.
Thu, September 13th, 2018 8:48pmAuthor
Reply
Thanks. Whether they speak ill of me when I'm dead or not, the point is, I won't care! :D
Thu, September 13th, 2018 6:40pm