Shane Bowman

The Letter

Aspiring graphic designer and part-time poet.






Dear Father, I am writing to you
From a cold lonely place
Sad and confused;

The day I left, is the day I died
The warmth in your house
I had despised;

I miss your smile, so dear to me
For now faces grunt
Sorely displeased;

I'm struggling to work, or to eat
In Your house was plenty
Abundance of meat;

As I close this letter, never forget
One day your dreaded servant
Would like to come back ...

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