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#325

I am my grandfathers son,
 Your mind is a lyric book,
 Words unsung.
 In a world that's not coming together,
 These days its so hard to get better,
 And I'm sick of bad weather.
 Can't there be a day without a cloud in the sky,
 They all remind me of you,
 Not a day goes by that reminding is what I don't do.
 How many times do I have to hold everything up,
 Don't you remember you forgot about me,
 Memories with you will never be enough,
 I just keep what forgetting.

 I am my grandfathers son,
 The one that doesn't remember anyone.
 He raised me and taught me everything I know,
 Now with my family falling apart where did this man go?
 Nineteen is too young to be the strong one,
 if only I wasn't so strong then you wouldn't all turn to me,
 I need room to breath.

 I am my grandfathers son,
 The one who took care of him for a year,
 The one that took a month to go to that nursing home,
 To busy trying to make myself feel better,
 Well she wasn't anything in the end and it didn't change the weather,
 On these warm spring nights I have no one to talk to,
 And I can't help but digressing to missing the man I once knew,
 The man that I once looked up to,
 You're a gaunt figure that doesn't know much and just lingers,
 Unable to self-sustain,
 And you keep asking me every time I push you in your wheelchair around that nursing home,
 "What's wrong with my brain?
 Who are you again?"
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Submitted on September 02, 2012

1:25 min read
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    "#325" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 14 May 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/63801/#325>.

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