Tuesday, January 27, 2015
The Shooter by George W. Beasley
Why did he pull the 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 which way did he die?
From the front or from the side?
The voices were loud I know.
Why?
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?
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 figured 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.
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