I gathered my graces
And let them fly away,
So I tell the dying man
My secrets
In hope that he'll put in
The Good Word for me
On the other side.
He tells me to watch out
For those boys,
And keep my head
Held high.
*Gathering my thoughts.* This piece is disturbingly peaceful (don't mind my paradox). Maybe we ALL need someone to put in a good word for us on the otherside. Then again, would we want to go through the necessary measures to do so? Great food for thought. I really like this poem.
