The Crying Woman

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A story of a wintry night.

The Crying Woman

What is it? A thought crossed the mind
Is there such a thing as being kind?
The little boy that stood so high
Now has changed to a slumping guy.

His eyes so red
His face so pale
His mother bled...
Before his eyes
His father's face,
No longer wise.

Fate is nothing
To be compared
To anyone who really dared,
The cruel game of
Life and death
scarred this boy
Last of his mother's breath.

So many nights, too many days
Too many things that cannot say
These feelings, so raw
So, so wrong
The little longer strong.

The fate, his faith is no longer here
All he could feel is only fear.
I cry for him day and night
Too many times I hear those fights

Alas, my friend what can I do?
For a special friend, only for you?
This wintry night I do declare,
What is right and wrong,
What is what, who's fare.

As the little boy's mother dared
I will take all their despair.
I took the steel, so strong, defiant
I am here, my friend for you...forever.

I write this poem just for you
To take care of the father
That did not care, all but for his
Drunken glare.
I change this fate of young and old
I will take the wings of vengeance
And dance with death forever.

As the gun shot rang across the streets,
Cars with multicolored lights
Took myself away.
The boy that once stood proud and tall...
Stared at the back of my head.

I love you, and this is all I can do
To release the pain for you.
Your mother, the crying woman has passed
And I eased her spirit at last.

Submitted: September 06, 2008

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