Tuesday, January 27, 2015

The Shooter by George W. Beasley



Why I’ve always ask
Did he pull that trigger that day
Leaving me this way

I’m still so sad after all these years
So many tears, so many years

I often wonder from the front or side
Which way did he die

The voices were loud I know 
Why I’ve always ask

Was it mother or me
Brothers and sisters have suffered so much
The pain goes deep and the voices are loud

Daddy why did you go
Daddy I didn’t know
Why did you go

The pain before the shot must have been loud
The pain after the shot still rings now

Why, I’ve always ask
Couldn't you see
There was so much to me

I think of you as you stared into my big brown eyes
Gave me a kiss 
And said goodbye

I love you so much, even today
I blamed myself as it helped the pain
But figure out that’s not the way

Daddy, the only thing I can say
You would be so proud of me this way

I love you so much, even today

God, Are You There? By George Beasley “Hey Mike, you there?” I whispered. “Yes, George,” the small voice always answered, “I’m he...