I Hate, I Hate
My son is 8.
It hurts my mind.
My teeth I grind.

My stress is high,
My hopes are low,
My faith is less,
My life's a mess.

How did we go,
How did we grow,
From fiery love
To embers aglow?

One child is failing,
One child is climbing,
One child is tailing.

One wants nothing,
One wants everything.
One wants to be included,
The little one just wants love.

I knew, I knew
That Morgan was two.
I knew, I knew
The candles he blew.

His life has hate,
He knows not why.
His life's a mess,
He could care less.

He fails,
He steals,
We have to nail
The presents to the tree.

He steals the candy
He is demanding ...

Copyright From A Poet's Heart
12/17/14