Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #2186718
Not all coping mechanisms are bad - for my son.
At my worst moments now
I do not wander into wasteland
I curl up, and around, purity
something so fragile I would weep
to lose its innocence
and I know it will happen
but for now, we sleep,
these quieter moments
between tears and laughter
I treasure the most
because I cannot love him more
than I already do
but I appreciate every second
that he makes me feel better.
It’s more than the world
has ever given me
perhaps more than I deserve
and that’s okay, he doesn’t mind
he loves me anyway.

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