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I’ve killed my parents
more than once.
Several times
at least twice.
First pierce their heart
with wooden sticks.
And squeeze their bones
for crows to pick
But a miracle thing
What love is
They’re still there
Behind the unbreakable bar
Parents would walk
on jagged rocks.
And hammer themselves
on the cross.
Ask them anything
For your sake and mine
Nothing is impossible
Because their love is divine
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Writer Profile
§ Ħåņābï §
I've never really written poetry before and am not a very serious writer. I like to write about things that makes me write, so about almost anything. I can only really write when I feel like it. Thanks for reading my poem.
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Comments
Marie Christian | Jan 30th, 2007
Anna,
This is a lovely poem. How long did it take you to realize that your parent's love for you is unwavering?
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