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Gilbert Pimentel Poem
9:18, on my June's day 3. Birth of our generations first, became Fridays worst promise made. One nine eight three. Ignorance defeated my innocence, that day wasn't so innocent. By the next day, one would say, I was already stripped of all my privileges. To consume and ingest an amount, pediatricians say that could lay one down to rest. In peace at six feet, wasn't the plan for he who loves me. I lost but was still left in the lead. Left but (I didn't lose) lonely wasn't a loss for me. A loss without losing, at no cost with nothing to be proven. Loose screws have been put in. Scars etched, have been like tattoos on skin. Memories have their highlights but also bring dark reminders. Pride has its pretenders that life forces us to be cordial with. Trust has become a hot commodity.
Copyright © Gilbert Pimentel | Year Posted 2023
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Gilbert Pimentel Poem
I amount to nothing now. Is my son proud? Well, I don't know. I don't know how? To get to you mijo, I had to fight through the crowd, of course, me always so loud, never made me proud. It was just to drown out how I really felt. Knowing all of me wants to shout, beyond yell out loud. So out loud. Looking now, wow, this is what life has become now? I had my doubts, but now? Wow, shocked, wow. Everything has been watered down to the point where you don't know what it is now. Anxiety being "his candy bowl," really who knows? But we know how far Lucifers rabbit hole really goes. Really not concerned, id rather learn, than burn right beside the worlds demise.
Copyright © Gilbert Pimentel | Year Posted 2023
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