PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

"I supose a poem'll do," said the old man to who knows who.
He soon slept in his bed, in his hands was a paper and it read:
'I walk alone. I am only one
If there are two, than she is there too.
When there is three, there is one more than you and me.
Could there be four? Our spirits should soar.
Five, six, seven, eight. That's more than we ate.
Nine, ten, eleven twelve. There's alot more things to shelve.
Back to eleven. She was only seven.
One by one. I lost a son.
Two by Two. The next one? We don't know who.
He's six one, he weighs a ton.
He was sixteen, but he wasn't mean.
Too much, to less of luck. One lost his life because of a little beer and a truck.
Too little. One was to brittle.
Now there are seven, hopefully the rest know heaven.
She was in some trouble, but someone burned her life to rubble.
He loved her a lot. She died, and soon death was all he saught.
My love, hopefully she's above.
My daughter. She was up for the slaughter.
We are only three, him, her and me.
He was in the military, when things got scary.
She promised me she wouldn't go, but she too was on death row.
The one who would die my last child left, she was killed in a theft.
I walk alone, and I too am gone."