My only son

You sat in the palm of my hand
Your fingers curled around thumb
Having to now give you to this land
Age seven, I bury you, my son

Fate had its way for one day
Now you’ve escaped this world
Content for too long, now i must pay
Pain is not given, it is hurled

No judgment to be set onto you
For you hadent committed any sin, unlike I
Am I supposed to start anew?
Id rather hold your hand and with you, die

2 Comments

  1. Talk about go above and beyond the requirements of the task! Why can’t they let you just write poetry for GCSE. Nothing matters more.

    CW

  2. Such a punching, powerful poem : it reminds me of Emily Dickinson

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