Never A Sorry Too Late

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Never A Sorry Too Late

I saw him like a monster
Am I just dreaming?
How can I figure out?
When a child's mind
Prefer playing
On a make-believe,
My world keeps wishing.

My daytime as a child
Full of laughter and fun
I run and run,
As fast as I can.
I'm afraid I'll lose
Every moment of fun
When nightime comes.

I saw the sun
Faded it's light
Seems like my hope
Out of my grasp now.
The monster is coming,
The scary thing I feel
Seems like forever I'm in hell.

So long, as I keep them.
But how can I ever hate him?
When all my mind and soul
Beats to love him.
I had been forgiven him
And now his alone and old
I'm the only one left in his world.

Papa, I knew it's been you
All the way through
I may not understand
What's happening in you
But my heart believes you
There's never a sorry too late
Than leaving "sorry" unsaid.

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Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

reCHrEfleca’s Poems (4)

Title Comments
Title Comments
The Boy 0
Keep Myself Asking Why 1
Never A Sorry Too Late 0
Your Love, a gift from above 0