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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Emotional · #1461398
A poem describing problems with my son.
the scrapes and scars are depressing to me.
The only part of my son I don't want to see.
I spend sleepless nights
thinking of what caused the fights
that make Dominick do this.
Where is the little boy I miss.


His wrists are full of scars,
and he's stuck in tar
as he strolls down this road
carrying a load
on his shoulders. Why does he cut?
And why does he make me hurt so much?
© Copyright 2008 Vickie Alexandria (ogagdgagmgjg at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1461398-Baby-Boy