How do I tell grandma I cry over ever letter.
It hurts that I’m not there to make things better.
The thing that makes me cry, the same thing that keeps me together.
Hail, rain and sunshine. She’s my weather.
I miss her cooking. And telling me I’m handsome.
I hope at sometime I can pay her ransom.
I hate talking thru paper and Samsung
I always felt like a son and not a grandson.
I haven’t given up. But it seems life has.
I’m in a vicious cycle of my trite past.
At any given moment it seems I might crash,
From not receiving answers no matter who or what I ask.
Feeling guilty for saying I need help too.
Cause I had a safety net, still I fell thru.
Too many times I never know what to do.
I should’ve listened. She always had the clues.
Still can’t get this love thing right.
Compared to her, all have fell far from a wife.
Nor has what it takes to maintain a family.
Even down under, cupid is damning me..
Only now, its not my main concern.
My kids… Can’t explain the pain; the burn.
I know they say, you live and you learn.
But what they deserve, they shouldn’t have to earn.
Can I tell grandma I’m livin better now.
And I’m doing things that will make her proud.
Despite my huge disappointment, she should smile.
When someone see my grandma, read this to her aloud.
Categories: Ali Jabbaar, poems
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