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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #2131114
Vows bed mess up, progeny's fate, yet makers stay mates. Does it matter? Wait! Too late..
Have you seen our children on a missing persons list, or scribbled scrap, a wistful note on miserable wreath strewn wall,


They were here when we left the hospital. Ours didn't have plastered limbs with graffiti, their heartbeat in the stethoscope briefly satisfied the one responsible.
Sandwich paper cut in safe spouse for our children's displayed health.
Agony, dilemma front and centre, zero harm their ICE defender; calm farm parents who resent the


Who wants cookies, our playtime parents, deleted from the recycled bin or to love each other; mirror matching union that conceived, conjoined them, to ease or twin each other's pain and heartache?

The loss and loneliness of never-ending


The children choose, are bound and bruised by whose division least to lose but leaving young, refuse to search or see among their pride for things, the very bits that ruin some. Mum-souls who died, the blind blindside, no Dad surrounding them with love - cut short.

The clinging grasp of little ones with eyes like eggs bakin', their new hands fish for yours, their sky-wide innocence fries all battered hope of trust you taught


Girl's buttons rowed, toward, retied their coat, gently butt the seam, merrily, verily, cruelly, zits upon them, life's a buttered dream. Hallway scrawl on the family wall, the night lit weeping, school chalkboard fingernail screeching, crappy birthday, I


And they all stay friends, for the children today; ends justify jelly beans. Joyful scream unwrapping Christmas tooth decay.
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