Some of us wear our scars on the inside
Tossed aside like an old rag doll damaged
Aging nonetheless somehow still useful
Riddled with doubts about love we abide
Defending our parents from the abuse
Unconsciously inflicted by their caged
Siberian tigers let loose to maul
Their children now and again a light snack
Simply put childhood was an art a ruse
Under the circumstances to get by
To get ahead succeed despite the odds
Rational thinking suppressed the cracks
Anxiety developed on the fly
SOS our distant cry to the gods
--
2014.8.12
No comments:
Post a Comment