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 Mar 2017 Simpleton
MeanAileen
Where are you going
my little one...
my precious son?
Why are you taking
my baby from me?

Close my eyes
and you're two...
Close my eyes
and you're four...
Close my eyes
and you're walking
right out of the door.

Where are you going
my little one...
my precious son?
You just keep growing
too quickly for me.

Close my eyes
and you're eight...
Close my eyes
and you're ten...
Close my eyes
and I just want
to hold you again.

Where are you going
my little one...
my precious son?
You've no way of knowing
how proud you make me.

Close my eyes
you're in school...
Close my eyes
and you're grown...
Close my eyes
and you're a father
precious son of your own.
This is more of a lullaby then poem. I used to sing it to my son when he was a lil guy. He's 22 now!!! Where does the time go?!
 Mar 2017 Simpleton
Ami Shae
Amen.
 Mar 2017 Simpleton
Ami Shae
Dropping to my knees in prayer to a god
who might or might not be listening--
hoping somehow the ache in my heart
will reverberate far enough along
as my tears are streaming, glistening
and find their way through
the silent waves of grief and worry
that envelop and grip my heart
to find god's undivided attention
for just a moment or two--
"dear god, I beg of you--
stop all the pain that has its clutches
upon many of our throats in this land
and swipe away all tears
with your mighty hand
and please, please if you can see through
to the core of me now
do the magic that they say you can do
and heal not just myself
but the many many others too
who are in pain, bereft and alone,
who are in dire need of your love, in need of You."
Amen.
My heart just feels so heavy for so many who are suffering/worried/hurt/living in pain. If god is real, then why doesn't he heal? (No offense meant to anyone, I just wish things were better for those in our world, for ALL those here on HP).
 Mar 2017 Simpleton
Alec Boardman
Mother warned me not to be too absorbed
In the mirror. I need to instead pay attention
To the world around me. “To form an identity,
One needs not to worry about perfection.”
She said. But, mother, you are apathetic
If I am anything but. I calm my impulses.

I buy and obsess over material possessions by impulse.
Catch me with a teen magazine, completely absorbed
As I block out the real world with an apathetic
Attitude. As I sit and read, I pay attention
To the celebrities who demonstrate perfection.
I will copy their traits to form my identity.

Lost in this dreary world, searching for identity,
I collect people’s personalities, stealing them on impulse.
Searching for happiness coincides with the pursuit of perfection.
I laugh at those who say I am self absorbed,
That say I am only looking for attention,
When it comes to criticism, I am apathetic.

I don’t care that I come off as apathetic.
It just happens to be part of my identity.
I don’t do it for attention.
Or maybe I do? I’m too impulsive.
I’m only this way because I’m self absorbed.
Obsessed with the idea of perfection.

I look at myself and all I see is perfection.
Others may see me with nothing but apathetic
Stares, but they are simply too absorbed
With their own problems of their identities.
Not my fault that they don’t feel the impulse
To love me. I don’t need their petty attention.

That was a lie, I live for attention.
Can’t everyone see I am the human embodiment of perfection?
Without their validation, I may act on my impulses.
And then when they ask why I did it, I will be too apathetic
To care. Dangerous and beautiful is my identity.
It isn’t so bad to be self absorbed.

I am absorbed in myself, desperate for attention
My identity relies solely on the thought of perfection
I am only apathetic because I care too much about myself. Here they come again, the impulses
November 2016
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