Through My Eyes Vol. I
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I, Barry R. Grissom, am thirty-nine years old and I am dying with an incurable disease that will take my life at an early age. I live in a town in the northeastern part of North Carolina. I started to write about too many days I kept within myself. Later when my stomach started to heal so many times it needed a tongue to lash out. Instead of packing my personal bomb to self destruct from speaking my mind too many times, I have always been a shy kid. I put pen to paper. Words wrote in disguise never hurt anyone. But took away the pain for me, if only for awhile. Through My Eyes was wrote at a t...
I, Barry R. Grissom, am thirty-nine years old and I am dying with an incurable disease that will take my life at an early age. I live in a town in the northeastern part of North Carolina. I started to write about too many days I kept within myself. Later when my stomach started to heal so many times it needed a tongue to lash out. Instead of packing my personal bomb to self destruct from speaking my mind too many times, I have always been a shy kid. I put pen to paper. Words wrote in disguise never hurt anyone. But took away the pain for me, if only for awhile. Through My Eyes was wrote at a time when trails of terror from being a full time drunk tied into a sober soul. My only choice left to live as long as possible. So I went toe to toe with myself to make some sort of way to not having words only said like a drunk mostly-now gone, many last memories to some personal part of me no one knew. Ann's eyes took the job to correct my words and make them real nice. I can't thank her enough. Only the second eyes to read my words pushed on to dreams from past clouds. I now have closure to my eyes, hands down, to Ann McGaha, my good friend Chief, and David Brennor and his crew. My words the one and only thing of me to be left when I'm dead Barry R. Grissom
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