White Picket Fence

Location

Dad's got whiskey on his breath,

and a hair from another lady.

He's counting the days until his death,

and tells mom she's crazy.

 

Mom lays still in the other room.

She has no will to speak.

She doesn't know what to do,

her depression's at its peak.

 

Sister has met another guy

who she thinks will want more. 

When they break up, she runs and cries.

To him she was just a whore.

 

Brother tightens thr rope around his neck.

He makes sure the chair is sturdy.

He says a prayer then takes a step,

this white picket fence is dirty.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741