You Can’t Handle the Truth

Aw come on Jack
We know it’s you,
and come on Jackson,
you put that title up there
then you had to explain it
and voila’
you have a poem
Is that it?


That’s it
except for
the flowers and the rain
and the smell of her hair
and the sound of her voice
and the not so absolute
fact that she’s gone
and that’s the truth

David Michael Jackson

Posted in art music poetry

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