by Bianca Delarosa

Son, before you go

There are things
I must let you know,
Like what to do just in case
A policeman sees your face.
Smile big and nod,
Put your hands up to god
Donít dress to be noticed,
Donít be assertive
I know you know this
I repeat myself because I love you
And I have no idea, what else to do
I canít protect you if Iím not there
And believe me they donít care
About your talents or your smarts
Your funny jokes, your kind heart
Look down, shut your mouth
Donít grab for something
Donít grab for nothing
Donít move too fast
Donít move too slow
I donít wanna have to go

To your funeral


Son by Bianca Delarosa

© Copyright 2014. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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