Sometimes the poet misses to catch the sentiment because of the stereotype... This about a parinful youngster who'se missing her father and whose family is drowning in sorrow over it. Glad to say, its not the case in this one valiant family
I cry myself to sleep thinking of why I have no father.
I do not understand what means death so I weep.
Mama tells me something to soothe me but neither
Of us manage a day without feeling that cut so deep.
I'm a little older now than when he slipped away
In the throes of pain that life forced him to bear.
My chest heaves when I see my friends so gay.
They've a picture perfect life with no cut nor tear
Life moves slowly and I wish sometimes that mom
Would find someone to fill that vacuum in our lives.
I'm too young to have many memories but miss him
I do, tender he was - oh the pain cuts like knives.
Sometimes I see grandpa lost in thought, his eyes
Seem vacant. I know not that he's oft astounded
At the way our family life was shattered like glass.
In knowing the cup of woes that we face - bounded,
I wonder what is the purpose of life anyway. It matters
Little to know of a Heavenly Father who must have
A heart of stone not to wipe away our lives in tatters.
With no respite I must think of mom and be her salve.