I'm Sorry - (It Should of Been Me)

Life shouldn't been way more through the eyes of this young child,

but thinking of that fact only makes it more difficult to compact and contract.

But see life and gevity was thought up as a prize that I once held deep with inside.

But yet only leading me to reminiscing on that innocent that I yet could not forget.

But see my brain likes to play ghost,

a metaphor where my memories and reality ceases to exist upon his face.

 

So I seek upon forgiveness for those who have felt pain,

grief, and lost, only to see what my faith has caused.

I say to myself that I'm so sorry, that i willingly scream please.

Yet to only to see my thoughts unconnected,

but still i scream, please can you hear me!

Please hear my screams, please!

 

But once again that my last thoughts sound lethal, it should of been me.

So I'm sorry that I've lost track of what I've done,

but yet my brain was just having an act of fun.

Now I've tripped and fell, looked but couldn't stop,

and yet I've screamed loud but yet you couldn't hear.

But yet I now fear, that I've defeat what should of been a career.

 

Yet you stand above me like a tower of youth,

but now you fall from the touch of a Titan made of titanium;

only now to see his tears fall upon you like rain.

So I dropped to my knees, only to start screaming the word please.

Felt like seconds but my brain wasn't yet connected, though I felt unconscious.

Slowly reached over to grab, but yet didn't stop to blink.

 

Kicking and screaming now I'm breathless,

but yet not on the verge to being reckless.

Fragments of images just started to appear, yet I'm still breathless,

I scream to myself that of which he shall not be to heavy.

The fact that I believe so much, that I imprinted into my brain,

to the point where I became sweaty and insane.

But reality didn't become a fact of which I could play, because I lost my grip on his' fist.

 

Yet I was so young, t'ill this day I felt his fist lose life,

though his body was still filled of fight.

Seemed like forever as we hanged from the cliff,

but yet took seconds beyond his fall, still I reminisced.

Yet the absence of thought left my brain, though I still reached to grab,

but only to claim nothing between my grip.

I squeeze tight until blood ran through my fists,

yet I couldn't blink on the verge of being lost,

and yet to only see you fall upon that grass that you once danced.

 

Why does his life have to be taken, for what I've made of my own?

Yet my feet felt sown where I stand, only for me to turn to stone.

Why must your name ran from memories, that I've sown to my chest and sleeves.

I thought my heart was made of whole,

but only to be forsaken for false sight of that night that I must hold.

 

I was appalled, angry, and frustrated

so I demanded the sweet release from my situation.

But yet reality rejected, now slowly my wounds are being dissected.

Now only to find myself hearing your voice say,

(hey big brother, guest what I want to be when I grow up,

I want to be a hero for those who can't get up.)

I cried until black lines sat right under my eyes,

as if I became a cheetah in the dark blue sky.

 

Why must you take him from my hand,

why must you dispatch his finger tips from my grip,

and so why must you make me relive life without his gift.

I feel sick that I had to learn what it feels like to lose and lost,

but yet not being able to recover from the ingenious pain that it has caused.

But I had to grow up quick, I had to learn fast,

and mostly I had to grab onto things that I thought felt solid like bricks.

Foundations weren't something of adequate,

but yet they formed a bridge for forgiveness; for that even I felt free.

 

I'm so sorry that your life was taken away,

because you were meant to be greater than a stray like me.

I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Charley, it should of been me.

But yet upon falling your last words were, at least I saved you.

Defeat was something that was lost deep with inside my eyes,

but now awakens to fall deep inside your grass.

But yet your life was taken, there was tree to replace it;

ironically it was exactly placed where you played at.

 

Now I'm just looking back to times where I, myself didn't relax.

But the fact is, you did save me, from a life that never got to take me.

It should of been me that went off that cliff,

but yet you stop me from falling and now I just want to thank you.

I say to myself that I'm so sorry, that i willingly scream please.

 

Yet to only to see my thoughts unconnected,

but still i scream, please can you hear me!

Please hear my screams, please!

But once again that my last thoughts sound lethal, it should of been me.

This goes out to all those parents that thought they did wrong,

to all those brothers and sisters that thought they did harm,

but yet they created something to be strong.

Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

Mafi Grey

Please comment as much as you can. It motivates me to write, when i have an audience behind me. Thanks

savigirl14

This poem is a maze. It has sadness, grief, anger and pain all at once. Please read my poems and comment as well because I would love some feedback.

Mafi Grey

Thank you. Sometimes when I write I don't always think about what it should be, sometimes I have a theory of what I want this to be and then I'll finish. Yet sometimes I need to put another stanza or another paragraph, yet I never know when it's done until I feel it's real to me. I never do half ass work, it my creativity itself, it's my thoughts, it's my imagination creating something based on real-life things and most of stuff is really true and some stuff I twisted around into my favor. The goal is to make somebody feel some type away when they're reading your work, to make them see what you see; but be at a distance because they can't really figure out how you got there. So my goal is to change your perspective or opinion on something, that will give you a different view that you didn't think of before; because clearly you can't think of everything and As your reading your like oh wow. 

kai.anderson

sorry to be a gramma nazi but your title should be 'sorry - (it should have been me)

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