Redundant

I am sorry to my mother for loosing her sons.
I'm sorry to my sons for loosing even me.
I'm sorry to my daughters for loosing their father and,
I'm sorry to myself too for loosing me.

I cry for my brother, lost both his legs and,
sorry for my caring,
like piss in the wind.
Sorry to my father for eminent disaster,
"sorry dear father, some holes are never filled"

Is life on a journey?
Is it monument disaster"
Is it fragment a whole or incomplete an theme?
Is narrow evacuate, or just a moment of laughter?
Does it all catch up with you right in the end?

Are breasts full of comfort or..
Something you pay for?
Can comfort just come as love from a friend to a friend?
Is death the end or is it just a beginning?
Is it the beginning of paying and of paying for the end?

Are the moments of reason excuses we bargained for?
Are the bargains excuses to justify theme?
Is that fat woman you love just something you feel for,
or is she just part of feeling, like you'd have some sort of care?

The virgins, the love, the love that you stole from,
the guilt of it all and, ashamed you seduced them...
the notion "you'd be better if you left it alone"
Are they the ones that chose you,
or are you the one that chose them?

Is a wish still a whish when it's not what you'd want?
Is a want just a whant because it's just what you'd have wanted?
Is there a way to see through this, if so explain it to me.
In shadows I see less, and in light I can't see.

I'm not sure who's lived yet but...

I'm not sure

Too many died

Here is the real poem...
"Redundant-Respondent-Despondent-Reclusive, denial"

Silly me took all them damn words to say that when it only needed five, but truth is I needed all them damn words to unnerstand them, all five...

PS: Sorry 'bout my spellin, guess I just don't care.