Karlton Kincaid



a snapped, shattered and pile of me,
should’ve known I’d be blown apiece,
a piece of what a whole can be,
my heart of dust, my ashes bleed.

broken from abuse, I’m seen,
as fractured as alone with being,
whose suffered from the memory,
of none who don’t remember me.

forgetfullness falls apart of me,
a piece of each, each space between,
the gap of time forgot to reach,
and pull together some thoughts I need.

who needs a break, has set me free,
free together but depart from me,
never will come to who ever believed,
that I’d forget to breathe remembering.

Savvinardo Savinci

DOC #657181

Categories: Karlton Kincaid, poems

1 reply »

  1. The fate of many inside, forgotten. Your life stands still. Their life moves on. They are too uncomfortable and don’t know what else to say – so they move on and there is nothing you can do about it. Too many broken pieces to mend.


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