When a child’s words sting, or their silence speaks,
A parent feels it, deep and weak.
Not out of ego, not just to fight,
But because their love runs through every night.

In every smile or tear that falls,
A parent’s heart responds, it calls—
For in the child, their legacy grows,
And every action, every blow,
Feels personal, like a mirror's face,
Reflecting their own heart’s embrace.

For biologically, the pulse runs strong,
A tie that’s ancient, deep, and long.
To protect, to guide, to make them whole,
They take it all—each bruise, each toll.

It’s instinctive, this bond they wear,
Like an armor, woven with care.
When the child stumbles, or turns away,
A parent feels it, night and day.

Not out of anger, but out of need,
To nurture, to shelter, to help them succeed.
For every moment, small or great,
The parent's heart just cannot wait—
To take it personal, because they see
That the child’s world is part of me.