She

I miss her so

And I want her to know

That although she let me go

I still show the love and compassion as fresh as a newborn doe

It's strange really how I made no impact on that kind of life.

With the scythe for death

She held a knife to my throat

Just ready to sink like a boat in the Atlantic Ocean

She held my heart on her shoulder

Like a boulder that she let free

But since she's not here with me

Then who will I be?

 

This poem is about: 
Me
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