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POEM - All the Things That Make U Happy When I was a boy of no more than eleven, Jesus took little Jeremy on up to a mysterious heaven, His mum—well, she cried till her rosy cheeks turned pale, And my mum? She held Jeremy’s mum and told a strange, little tale, A whispered, shadow of story of a brother I never knew was born, A time when a younger version of my mother had her soul completely torn, A baby who only knew but one, short winter, A woman’s soul like a vessel broken into a thousand splinters, The youngest, the weakest, the most innocent all fall, And their weary mums are left to pick the pieces where they fall, And you, my rosy eyed friend just ramble on of love and peace, When everything beneath the celestial vault succumbs to sickness and disease, As you will, one day—seek not comfort in your skin, After a birth you didn’t even remember, the dying soon begins, Your bones turn brittle, your eyes sunken, your rice paper skin gray, And nothing left but memories of the heart you once gave away, You remind me of Jeremy actually, in your own sweet way, An impressionist painting, a slice of time on a cozy warm day, But time plays cruel tricks, and even rocks and mountains wither away, All the things that make you happy, in time decay, All the things that make you happy, in time turn gray, All the things that make you happy, will come to pass like Jeremy did that day.  
[Edited 10/26/09 5:55am] | |
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 will c u on the other side[Edited 12/23/09 17:05pm] | |
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It's actually a true story  | |
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| will c u on the other side [Edited 12/23/09 17:05pm] | |
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