That Day In December

Tue, 01/31/2017 - 12:46 -- Rudiot

Death is something most people hate.

I can absolutely relate.

You left a mark on my skin that is unseeable.

Although I feel for it. It’s unreachable

It isn’t something I’m proud of.

Death can throw you under or above.


The edition of the newest news.

Can give you an excuse.

For you touch their throat.

And death doesn’t have an antidote.

I hate what happened.

My personality has since blackened.


Most people use “I love you” flippantly.

And it sickens me.

If I say it to you, congratulations.

I have a reason for this situation.

You forget to tell how you feel

It could be the last time they hear it, and you find it as something to conceal


I’ve forgotten it twice.

One of them left my heart feeling broken on a line.

It scratched a red, raw cut into my soul.

Blood seeped out of the small open holes.

You can taste the bitterness of my regret.

What I did, I want to forget.


But the second time gave me a chance for redemption.

Death doesn’t always give exceptions.

I learned that the first time.

It’s not a victimless crime.

But it almost takes someone, away from this strife.

In fact, it almost took my life.


A semi hit my side of the car

If I had stayed in there for 2 minutes long-ar

I would be dead

My mother survived but it left scars on her head

Nothing is scarier than sitting in a hospital

After someone has barely survived something fatal.


When you are waiting for death to visit.

You wait in the room that wasn’t vivid.

It smelled bleached when I walked into that room.

We had to be silent and listen to the drip of IV’s in the tomb.

I remember pulling my mother’s hair out of her neck brace.

As the nurse whispered with my dad right outside of that place.


There are things we do not want to remember.

And mine was my mother’s face that day in December.

There is no one I love more than my mom.

And Death is something that doesn’t always give chances before it drops a bomb.

Death is something most people hate.

And I can absolutely relate.

This poem is about: 
My family


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