by Jordan Brown



I know a man named Sorrow,

I met him one September night.

He lit himself on fire,

And burned throughout so bright.


He tapped me on the shoulder,

Then burst into my lungs.

He cut my breath and sight ahead

At only ten years young.


I know a man named Sorrow,

An intruder nonetheless,

He burst inside my room as smoke,

Crept to my mother’s chest.


He kissed her from the inside

Until she couldn’t breathe.

She screamed and begged to let her live,

But Sorrow would not leave.


I know a man named Sorrow,

I slipped his stifling hold

And to the light with fight or flight,

I ran into the cold.


A chilling autumn darkness,

The sun was yet to rise.

Frenzied on the slanted roof,

I looked to Sorrow’s eyes.


I know a man named Sorrow

Who screamed with discontent

At the sight of me still breathing,

So back inside he went.


Apart he took my household,

From bottom to the top

Still hungry for a victim

He lead my mother’s heart to stop.



I know a man named Sorrow,

He’s hung around me ever since

That grievous day, and still he stays

Though now I do not wince.


For life is full of Sorrows

Seizing innocence from youth

A dreadful game we live each day

How ugly is the truth.