The path was mildewed,
slippery, mountain top high and lean.
We followed you over a fungied fence
carrying our burdens,
blindly trusting.

Your bag was simple bamboo,
120 mgs of pain -
perhaps you did not see
mine was 120 kgs of pure pain.

I carried it alone, baby on hip,
until I could not.
Ghost husband reached out to catch us,
guess that was kind of a mind ****ery
somewhere in the ether.


Falling,
    Falling,
          Falling,
                Falling,


Would it ever end? Eyes wide in terror,
I watched the cliffs pass by
as I canon balled down,
waiting for death.

The strangest thing.
I landed in a barn
filled with straw,
unhurt, but with two fresh holes,
one in each palm.

Crucified, by religion,
yet free.

PAINFUL
NICE

Thank you Robin... I write what I know... keeping it real

Yes I Know.
Keep Smiling
Tc.

Nice poem .

SuperPoem
BestPoet

ABeauty of Sixty Kgs lighted..
Carrying 120 Kilograms of Pain
Travelling So Many Kilometres
Of Life Still Is Suspense....

.....Robin

Wow an How..
Invitation

I will surely check out if i get a free time ahead. Thank You