One Meaning of Poetry
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Wade Waking up to the alarm sound of cries from mothers,Putting on tattered clothes worn from dead brothers,Open up my phone, and hoping to get a text from one of my many lovers.Better get ready to go, before dad gets up with his morning bottle,
I saw him once in my entire life, I was nine, I still remember how he looked like, Nothing like how I imagined, Wearing an old navy blue cap, The smell of dirt and oil rubbed off him,
Who are you? Who are you to me? You are my father? Oh... I see... A father is a protector, Defender of the land. Chasing out the monsters, And letting sweet dreams come to land.