Photo by Mark de Jong on Unsplash
Every where I go I feel like I’m carrying your gravestone with me,
It’s hard, and rough, and tough to carry.
Each day,
I want to set it down,
to walk away,
to let the gravestone sit in the dirt,
to gather moss,
And yet I carry it,
straining with the heavy rock,
twice I dropped it,
and cracked the edges,
It’s stained,
With blood,
and sweat,
and tears,
And yet I carry it,
like a cruel joke,
a chain keeping me close,
to your burial mound.
My back is sore from the burden,
my hands red and raw.
My legs shake from time to time,
But,
the pain is worth it,
because it means,
no is carrying a stone for me.
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About the Creator
Matthew Donnellon
Twitter: m_donnellon
Instagram: msdonnellonwrites
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