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Poetry

Momma


Hamid Bakhshandeh
August 12, 2007
iranian.com

Momma I'm dying
Momma I'm fading away
The little twinkle in my eyes, the same one that's been there since I was a little boy, is not there any more,
Momma I'm melting, wasting, Momma I'm dying
Momma I'm aching for your touch, for any touch
For a human touch
To simply tell me everything is going to be ok
To tell me I'm loved
Momma I miss your old hands, your rough, hard worked hands

Momma, your boy, your only boy has reached what seems to be the end
Momma, help your boy, please... I'm dying
Baba was the listener for all my life; he's gone what do I do?
Who is going to listen to my pain?
Who will guide me through rough waters?

Momma, the girl who was my life, my everything, my love and my wife
Momma, she is my pain, my ache, my heart break, what do I do Momma?
How do I accept the truth? How do I tell myself its over?
How do I tell her, ask her, beg her, to stop hurting me?
Momma what do I do?

Momma I miss you
Momma I'm dying

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