A letter to The Child Whose Life I Shaped

I pulled that trigger.
I loaded the bullet that changed your life.
Did I think?
No.
I was purely trying to save my own life.
No.
I don’t know where your doll is.
No.
I can’t help your dad.
No.
I can’t get you out of that dark room.
I am so sorry.
I mean,
sorry won’t bring back your doll.
Sorry won’t take that missile off course.
Sorry won’t make the men stop “visiting.”
Sorry won’t do a **** thing,
I can never take back my actions.
I know that I broke you.
I flipped your life upside down and turned it inside out.
I don’t know your name.
I don’t know your favorite color.
If I could go back,
and get to know you,
your favorite food and how old you are,
maybe I would have laid my life down for you.
It is too late to do that.
Too late to save your parents.
And your doll.
And your childhood purity.
No.
I didn’t know.
I didn’t know that I was shaping your life.
No.
I just didn’t want to know.
Didn’t want to think about it.

Sincerely,
The Man Who Drastically Changed Your life

(20 minute poetry)

All fine this time though next time who knows.

I am Stuck inside a rhythm,
is there a name for that?
A schism?
and would they name it after me?

I want to be famous instead I am nameless
one of the drones which society
in their kindness homes,
they give me employment and say it empowers me,
but there's little enjoyment and
I get little of it.

And yet I am thankful that I am not in a bank full
of thieves with a grievance and that is a bonus, it seems the onus is on me to find a middle ground yet still be
Decisive.

So
that's how it plays out
I forget about schisms which are not in the music nor rhyming or rhythms and I lay down and die.

I sit and I spy with this Central line eye something beginning with?
And she thought I was looking at her and the clothes that she nearly wore and the bore sat beside her,
I never spied her at all.

You called me golden
Like, perhaps, I could be a California river
And now I know that I am that swollen western stream
Scattered with pebbles of treasure
And you are the man that is sifting through me
Marveling at a beauty I cannot see:
Telling me how the sun made me sparkle,
Bragging about the curve of my body through the hills...
I know that I am that western vein because
I know I give more than I take,
I know I could never stick around for long...
I feel like you're like the others
Who held me in a colander and
Walked away with all I could give them.