The onion rips
as words trip
my ever step
forward
and with each rip
I tend to slip
first forward then back
giving slack
to what I had held so dear
and as he draws near
to pull me more
I fight
with all thats for
what would have been
grieving an idea
that was impossible
and still is
but Lord, what is this
this ache that yearns
to call
to say hello
knowing no
that you have better
always have
but why am I so sad?
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