#WritcoPoemPrompt48
Write a poem about a time that your illusions of someone or something were shattered.

this is not a will,
but a small possession,
to be...
under the care of my mother.

hello mum?
i am sorry,
i'm running short of time,
because death has come.

i wish i had a moment again,
to face you and tell you this,
but writing it down on shit,
i find it of glee and ease,
so take it just the way it is.

ma'
Jay is my wife,
i know this...