A poem where I was looking back at my childhood |
On a cold November morning Hours before the cock crowed He entered the world. Number four, the last in line A shy, compassionate little boy Wanting to please, needing approval Trying to be what everyone wanted. Never succeeding, doomed to failure. He looked towards Father Wanting to be liked, asking for approval. Boy doesn’t play any sports! Boy doesn’t work on cars! Boy’s friends are mostly girls! Boy only reads books and writes in journals! Best to ignore him. Something not quite right with him. He looked towards Mother, Pleading for understanding, crying for acceptance, Boy doesn’t do anything right! Boy is so stupid! Boy was never wanted! She’s angry that he isn’t quite right. So angry she screams at boy constantly, She screams and screams and lets him Know just how stupid he is, but boy doesn’t change.. Something not quite right with him. Sister is a harsh bitch who likes taunting Boys who aren’t quite right. He doesn’t want anything to do with her. She doesn’t care. She makes him sorry he was ever born Not quite right. He dropped to the ground. He held his fists to the skies He cried to the heavens “Forgive me!” “Please God, forgive me “For not being quite right.” |