September 2004 One year after losing Mom
Why do I pound the floor
and scream my agony?
giving the carpet What For
and tears to sip for tea.
Who am I yelling at?
Who do I blame
for this feeling?
Do I pound the floor flat
because I can't reach
the ceiling?
Honesty's a bitch
when the truth
looks scary,
Enough to make you twitch
'cause this could get hairy.
But here it goes
the old One Two,
"God your plan blows!"
Now this poem
rings true.
