A poem.

Men have come and always gone.

A child owned, that remained ungrown.

Men in absence spoke, when need was wanted most.

A father’s presence too soon and brief.

Comfort sought, but lost in fault.

I too soothe my own wounds in crimes committed.

A sin of progeny.

Assuaged by rage, through words I rave.

Directed inward, the herd of sinners.

Lost perpetually.

In women’s arms I seek a heart.

But man I am, named in stone.

Stone I am, a man unkown.

poem by peter j. zaragoza ©2016

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