I worry for you, my friend.

You look at the colors
With stars in your eyes,
But you still haven't embraced death
As a part of our lives

You push the happiness
With such certainty
But you forget that darkness
Is also a part of reality

I worry that you have forced
Your contentment too much
And once the high is gone
You will fall and crash

*And I'm not sure if I will be there to catch you.

I look in the mirror
And what do I see?
A scared little girl
Looking back at me

Are you afraid, I ask
But I get no reply
All I can see
Are the tears in her eyes

Are you ok, I can be your friend
She looks back at me
Saying nothing….
Again

I walk away
Thinking how sad is she
Then I realize
That girl is me

My child is neither broken nor stupid in any way,
What you take for anger is their way to vent frustration
At that which escapes them on any given day.

My child is my baby I don't care what you think or say,
Having kind words spoken instead of a scream or shout.
It,s better for there understanding than words not shouted
Out, but explained for them to so they understand what
The question, explanation is all about.

My child may be not your child but never call them broken
Or stupid, know that my child will learn, but in a different
Way from which you were taught.

Wherever I walk
always there is an absence
walking beside me..

I’ve written numerous
Poems for you
Each and every one
Delicately written

Pictures painted
With words bleeding
From my pen until
The paper is soaked

Yet you cast aside
The pain it is
To arrange
Those words for you

I'm pondering
If pouring
My heart out
Is worth it anymore

Well this poem
Will be torn up
Because you don’t
Deserve it

I wonder
If you ever did