Dreams filled with dead children

i’m sorry i’m not beautiful
i’m sorry my ribs keep you up at night
i’m sorry my breath is bitter
i’m sorry my prescription needs refilling
i’m sorry my bible is always closed
i’m sorry my pockets are silver
i’m sorry my son was never born
i’m sorry my fever went through the night
i’m sorry my voice is too loud and off key
i’m sorry my eyes are questioning
i’m sorry my dreams are filled with dead children
in the streets
asking for jesus

- J. James Martinez