Sayonara Mother Thirteen Years Ago Back In Time Tear Drop Uno

the bittersweet silent story of my life age fifty and nine automatically rebroadcast in indelible (yet never washed out) beige indistinguishably linkedin, when counting the last three of seventy somber orbitz, signify torturous custom made cage whose darkening shades of gray housed a weakened Harriet Harris, an ashen corpse lay no doubt a grown changeling dust play a cruel trick, and soul of me mum didst slay, so...tis with great difficulty aye write this poem today cathartic to brush off self denunciation, an albatross that dust way heavily incriminating, ostracizing this mind of mine, recurring every year comb May fourth a line codifying, delineating, earmarking, and doth likened to elementary school Boyer as in Henry Kline no less painful reflection plus unavoidable, hence this middle aged man lets feelings incline toward self expression this anniversary revisiting re: deign upon memorializing general up beat defiance at death of thine late mother, where disease rabidly did eat ting her til she expired, this singular married heir set himself a writing fete wordlessly mouths never expressed greet unbeknownst reeders gleaning my sentiments heat ting recollected adieu bid prior, whence she angrily wanted to meet that accursed nemesis against healthiness and repeat cherished apothegm, that existence offers no second act as she relinquished slipping tenuous weak bract leave ving ever fainter grip upon cracked pommel of mortality, an immutable fact thence black knight denounced, pounced, hijacked trounced unannounced, vanquished, lacked motive to rival nixed, extinguished sputtering pact fast fading joie de vivre unspoken, where death rattle racked personal def tone accentuation tracked subsequent self castigation, excoriation nearly whacked me to Timbuktu rebuking extolling bless sing experienced from this sole son for thirteen years, aye confess when the inimitable Harriet Harris