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Click hereAs I ready for my bed,
my children, they have all been fed,
and fed and fed and fed again,
and grown to women and to men
Learned to love and yet be strong
And never cry; lifes circle wrong
Taught to eat and when to kill...
I know not if they will
For now my blankets call to me,
such warmth and safety promised free.
A little nap: Now or forever?
Would choices end? My burden sever?
Deaths soft, sweet voice, it sings to me.
Her big brown eyes, dark as can be.
My Nora causes me no fright
'Come away with me, in the night'
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A note to the reader: No, I am not suicidal. This isn't about taking the easy way out. It's about getting old, and realizing that you aren't going to live forever... and being ok with that.
I totally agree that explaining things is lame... but the last time I publish this, I got a crapton of people asking if I was going to off myself, and it got escalated up to mgmt and the poem was removed. That wasn't on this site, but the concern is valid.
Very nice, but a word of advice: Never explain the meaning of your poem. A back story on how you came to write it is cool but let the poem fulfill its purpose on its own.. After all, you wrote it for those who would dig it, didn't you?