Victor


There's nothing more too special
Than jotting pen to paper
The artistic form of releasing ones data.

Personal or Professional
Which ever one you wrestle
Let it be known the receiver will sure benefit.

Written from the heart this special form of art
Has its own meaning beaming through the dark.
Beaming through the dark
Is another form of art?
It's telling its own meaning.

Be it’s as it's known
Another poet’s art
The writing of a shooting star.

What I’m trying to say
Is that hopefully one day
Is that I shall have a star that's beaming...
But my shooting star - just like every other star -
Will be beaming its own meaning.

Victor I'm so sorry
For all the extra bother
And sickened with the horror.
Horrified then petrified as this was just unjustified
Yet not seeing...
There's my petrified

Victor I apologise
As now I see you’re petrified
That soon one day - and justified -
That soon one day that I may die.

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This Poems Story

This poem was written as an apology to my key worker, Victor. I was unable to explain to him my feelings about a situation and it lead to us clashing heads. I since then have found a way of expressing my emotions.