Grandpa died...but I don't care.
A motorcycle hits the curb
just to save another's life.
Catastrophes, mass suicides, genocides,
I don't care! Oh...I'm terrible.
Boohoo, go weep and mourn
but for how long? Years?
Don't look down upon me
because I don't feel.
If my grandpa didn't come back
why would yours with added sorrow?
Once you find a way to die,
you will find out the way I cry.
There are no tears or mournful features
because I accept what's already over.
Go on, go on, existence
because the past is dead.
Grandpa didn't stop living,
grandpa didn't stop doing what he loved
and did it till he died...
lying on the pavement, helmet split open.
Blood, blood, blood.
Grandpa is still alive in me,
The question is, is Grandpa alive in you?
YOU ARE READING
Messages From the Void
PoetryA culmination of my poetry that I have carefully jumbled into a book, which is also available on amazon. Thank you and good day.
