Red is all I can see sometimes. 😦
A dying man
lays in the bed,
thoughts running rampant;
words left unsaid.
“Forgive me, granddaughter;
“Forgive me for my sins;
“Even though I’m not Catholic,
“I pray your heart heals and wins.”
His paralyzed body does not let him speak.
Tears roll silently down his cheek.
Emotions are not weak,
Yet comfort is
what he seeks.
To me, his thoughts reek
and my life remains bleak.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Come to your own conclusions for what this post is about. They’re probably right.
Hi. I'm Lorraine Reguly, owner of Wording Well and Laying It Out There. I'm an English teacher-turned-freelancer-for hire, an author, and an entrepreneur. I offer 4 different services on Wording Well: 1. Writing. 2. Editing. 3. Coaching/Consulting, 4. Author Assistant Services. I like helping others and want to help you!
POETRY PERFECTED 
I’m not going to try and guess what this is about, but I do have an idea. I just wonder if he received the comfort he desired and if he deserved it!
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Your idea is likely right. He died while in a coma, so I doubt he felt he when he passed. He was a pretty good man for about 99% of his life, so he probably deserved it, but that 1% sure affected me a lot. Oddly enough, I think I have forgiven him but not the man who raped me when I was a virgin.
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