"orphanage" poems
i
give me my lifes´
the day crowded bright
and the night sumptuous..
give me my pretty wife
where love at first sight
bind us..
give us two souls blithe
fused as light within light
sweet bounteous..
let us soar and dive
like content swallows might
time in lost happiness..
( and let trouble and strife
bind-us the more tight
like our first kiss..)
give then to two one life
white to white
whole as stars
as love unto death
might break apart
and ride the cosmos..
ii
the jonah by james herbert
a heist goes wrong and a colleage
is shot..
just another debacle for our hero
in a long list
that has him transferred to the
drug squad and east anglia..
to live in a caravan..
keep his eye on the locals
and drink strong beer..
ellie his partner
makes him eat
and they fall in love
though various tentions rise
due to his troubles..
some flash backs
a left baby in a toilet
sadistic stuff at the orphanage..
bullies and dodgy collars
his step father is strict
he is an ornothologist..
there are drug related incident
a dead vole
a us pilot bites the farm..
some little boy thinks he
can fly..
the water supply
some pilfering
some heavy knocks
some bad lies
some kitchen
small potatoes
but all part
of mr herbert´ s charm..
a huge storm
the spooky old mill
a wild trip..
and regression
bad men
bad men..
lot´ s of struggle
the raw products
towed in by trawler
assembled by the knights
torn
and a lost twin..
a monster in the flood
where others die
a maitre d..
a ***** salesman and
his girl in a caravan
the fishermen..
helicopters and
victory for
the forces of good..
and the jonah
gone and all
is light..
the end..
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 8:01 AM UTC
Children born with *** is the most sadest thing in life. Everyday there is a child born with *** The reason for this is because adults and children are ***** each and every day. By the curel careless people in this world. Kids are sent off to oprphanges in some parts in Africa where honestly is better then some other places in Africa. Thats not it though the ones that are not in oprphanges are at risk each and everyday for there lifes. Not only for this disease but for the curlest people that will **** them for basically no reason because they dont have freedom like we do. Why treat children this way period but why treat them especially if they have limited time in life. They dont get to see and experience what we get to see and experience because we have the freedom. Each and everyday children in Africa risk there lifes to go to school most of them don't survive because once again the cruel poeple in this world **** them. Unlike we get to go to school for free and have freedom. We get to have the oppertunity to have an education. When they are not even given a chioce. The kids that are not in a orphanage are slaves they get torchered they get wipped they even are forced to see there parents wipped, ***** and murdered. They dont have choices at all for there life the chioces are made for them. Barely any water to drink or even food to eat. Children in Africa die each and everyday either from ****** starvation, dehydration or there disease. We act so ungreatfully to people in our lives we should be ashamed. When poeple in Africa don't have parents or if they do they dont get to see unless seeing them be torchured. I am thankful for everything I have and the freedom I have. Learning about this in school was intrestingly horrifying because of what these people do to these children and there parents or to people in general. They dont get *** from chioce of *** or born with it or lack of condoms they are forced with this horrible disease that is life killing and that most likely turnes into AIDS. With out any medical or lack of medical attention the poeple with disease are left to die. With people torchering them by watching and ****** them each and every day. It makes me furious to know that there are children human beings out there that are being torchured, ***** murdered, starved and dehydrated each and everyday of life. This is the life to the day they are born untill the day they die. After reading this think really hard about your life and the things and people in your life is life really hard for you is it that painful is it that horrifying. Put yourself in there shoes would you like seeing your parents child or sibling get ***** murdered or even wipped each and everyday. going without food or water or having barely food or water. For me after writing this and learning it my whole life is heaven compared to them. I have everything they don't and better and I am not even close to being as greatful as I should. Think about this and this is so very true this is there lives each and everyday for the children and adults that are slaves that have HIV/AIDS in Africa.
Feb 3, 2011
Feb 3, 2011 at 10:35 AM UTC
Doctor Larch peers out the window,
Pulling aside brocaded curtains to hide
The grief that he will not show,
The rending emptiness he feels inside.
As his son Homer rides past the sunset,
Not knowing where he goes
But aspiring to see the wide world,
The ocean at Mount Desert,
Seeing wonder in the expanse
And worlds inside a circle of glass.
He has taken with him his heart,
A dark picture of frailty.
He finds unexpected work in an orchard,
Leisurely harvesting round, garnet jewels.
The nomads, dark and wary,
Ask him to read about death and stars.
There are rules for the workers.
And Homer finds that they apply
To no one, neither nomads or
Curious young men.
He sees in the errant father
The reflection of his own,
The man who made him good.
“You are my work of art”
He wrote.
Like an artist with his painting,
Who resists giving it away,
So Doctor Larch holds on to him
Hoping his adolescence ends
And he returns.
Finding peace at the last.
The lack of rules bring about a sea change,
Allowing forbidden love and pain.
He ventures out once more into the vacuum
Of conscience set free,
He devises his own rules about the womb
And how to help those in agony
But eventually…
With all the rules now open,
There is nothing left for him to do.
So he boards the migrant truck
Just as the pilot returns, broken.
He watches the struggle with a wheelchair
Sees his lover watch him with her yellow hair
Knows her future, years of sacrifice.
And he admits at last
That he has a purpose,
The train to St. Cloud huffs slowly away,
With Homer standing in the wet snow.
There is the old asylum,
The orphanage and home on the hill,
Almost black, with the sunset behind,
Homer begins the long climb.
He approaches slowly.
But then, a burst of laughter
And children from the door
Flock around him, dancing, shrieking,
Some holding him like an errant dog,
Who must be told to stay.
“Will you stay?” they ask.
“I think so,” he smiles in irony.
He is home at the last.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 10:58 AM UTC
To raise
humble kid
is my priority.
I can
Make my CHILD learn
-
By preaching
By teaching
By giving
Knowledge of
Sharing
Caring
Loving
But...
She will not learn
by preaching!!
Rather
She will learn
By my ACTIONS..!!
If I don't
Share MY things
With My
Friends
Neighbours
Siblings
Cousins
She will learn NOTHING..!
*I can make her
learn to share.
By making her give -
Clothes to needy
Toys in orphanage
Candies to the deprived.
*
But by GIVING
she will
just learn to be PROUD
Rather
If she learns by
seeing me
SHARING
She will become HUMBLE..!!
To raise a humble kid is my priority..!!
Sparkle In Wisdom
11 Jan 2019
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 3:05 PM UTC
Look into my eyes and you shall see
The innocence and solitude in me
I am all alone in this massive ball
No one to pick me when I fall
Touch my body and feel
The absence of countless meals
I have dug into several bins
To find a morsel from trashed tins
I have slept on cold hard grounds
A better place, still not found
I was soaked by the pouring rains
And disturbed by noisy trains
I have played with broken dolls
Drawn with charcoal on overfilled walls
I have prayed to all the gods I know
Their love makes my soul glow
I am a child too
Don’t deprive me of you
Cuddle me in your arms
A little crave for love means no harm
I know I am an orphan
And might not even get buried in a coffin
But don’t shoo me away so recklessly
Where is your humanity?
Don’t throw that money and walk away
Please hear me out or for a while just stay
If you know of an orphanage, take me there
I no longer want to live in despair.
-Zainab Attari
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
His home is an orphanage
in downtown Belize.
Triple-decker bunk beds
topped with ***** stained mattresses
fill each room.
An abandoned 10 year old
lies paralyzed on the floor;
"Don't touch him. Nobody ever touches him."
A small child covered in sores
sleeps in a puddle of his own *****
I offer a container of pink Play-dough to a boy
who proceeds to sculpt me
changing the pink to brown
with his ***** hands.
When he is done,
it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
"What is your name?"
"I'm Allen"
He tells me about his dreams of leaving Belize
and becoming a U.S. soldier.
He tells me of how his mother,
a **** addict,
dropped him off at the doorstep when he was 8 years old
and how he remembers
the look of fear and disappointment in her eyes
every time she looked at him
and saw his father.
His favorite color is blue.
Together, we make bracelets with colorful beads,
and as I stand to leave
he hands me a pinkish-brown heart
warm and sweaty
from his ***** hands.
And in return
I hand Allen,
and every child like him,
my own heart
red and ******
dedicated and passionate,
foolishly and hopefully attempting
to change the world.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 5:05 AM UTC
|||||
000 000
ghetto street
( Poverty 's song )
••
I'm just an Orphan Child
with a broken smile
In my deep retreat
/:/
Between the gang **** and the dawn
//
When YE see the police man
YE better run
••
When I see the silly little white girl
Cryin
WHERE ARE YE BABY ?
takes my mind awhile
To just settle down
//
I'm an orphan song
With a silenced sound
/:::/
An orphan child
/////
/////
Rivers of Blood
Alleyway dreams
••
An orphan song
••
I'm wise and I'm tough and I'm strong
••
An orphan child
••
So good and so pure and so kind
Ain't got no family so you all are mine
//
The reality of pure Suffering
Hurts to the core of humanity
//
I'm an orphan song
An orphan child
But everyone is
An orphan too
In this world which really
Ain't no good
//
Just an orphanage
Serving rotten food
Just an orphan child
Just like you
Singin an orphan song
For me and you
Just an orphan song
An orphan song
An orphan song
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 8:23 PM UTC
His home is an orphanage
in downtown Belize.
Triple-decker bunk beds
topped with ***** stained mattresses
fill each room.
An abandoned 10 year old
lies paralyzed on the floor;
"Don't touch him. Nobody ever touches him."
A small child covered in sores
sleeps in a puddle of his own *****
I offer a container of pink Play-dough to a boy
who proceeds to sculpt me
changing the pink to brown
with his ***** hands.
"What is your name?"
"I'm Allen"
He tells me about his dreams of leaving Belize
and becoming a U.S. soldier.
He tells me of how his mother,
a **** addict,
dropped him off at the doorstep when he was 8 years old
and how he remembers
the look of fear and disappointment in her eyes
every time she looked at him
and saw his father looking back.
His favorite color is blue.
Together, we make bracelets with colorful beads,
and as I stand to leave
he hands me a pinkish-brown heart
warm and sweaty
from his ***** hands.
And in return
I hand Allen,
and every child like him,
my own heart
red and ******
dedicated and passionate,
foolishly and hopefully attempting
to change the world.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 3:51 PM UTC
Let me tell you the story of how you showed me what it means to be part of a family. Let me tell you how sometimes I joke that “hitting means love if it’s your family,” but I’m only actually half-joking, because that’s how I grew up. Let me tell you how family has been for me in the past and how it meant people that would hurt you, betray you, abuse you, and destroy your very will to live. Let me tell you about the nonexistent dad, the hateful stepdad, the cousin that liked hand jobs, and the uncle that came for me every night without fail. Let me tell you that the abuse wasn’t just ****** and how that one time we got sent to the orphanage I was only upset because they took away my little sister. Let me tell you about how I found a strange peace there. And let me tell you how all the people I have loved most have died, and how I thought I was a curse so I stopped loving at all. Let me tell you how weird it is to me to have parents calling to check up on you, and eating dinners together, and just having conversations. Let me tell you how I look at y’all, confused as to how you can stand one another without the help of drugs. Because let me tell you, that’s all that stopped the yelling and punching and hate at my house. But let me tell you about how y’all seem to genuinely care for one another. And let me tell you how much it makes me want to cry to be enveloped within this family. Let me tell you about the time your mom told me she loves me and I didn’t know how to respond, because my mom and I only traded hate. But let me also tell you about how I started saying it back, and mean it. And let me tell you about my 26th birthday, when your family threw me my very first birthday party, with cake and ice cream and presents, and I didn’t know how to react to such an outpouring of love, or how to begin to show how thankful I was. Let me tell you about y’all planning a trip six months away and inviting me. Let me tell you how much it means, not only to be invited on a family trip, but to be accepted so much that it’s just assumed I’ll still be around then. Because let me tell you, I live in fear of losing you. And let me tell you about the time you almost gave me a heart attack by asking if I’d be okay with your niece calling me “Aunt Amber,” because part of me is still scared of getting that close. Let me also tell you how my heart clenched when your mom told me your niece threw away your high school dance pictures because I’m not in them. So let me just tell you how I cry happy tears now, knowing I am part of a real family.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
Our lunar orphan has but
Reflected light to offer
As does a monolithic orphanage
With cold harsh policies
Being furtively undermined
By beautifully wise children.
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
I
don't want to
exist.
In
a
love-less
lust-lost
home either.
Let's run-run-run
run-away
to better
days.
Run away
from everything,
from everyone
to everywhere
and anywhere.
We deserve to look outside
the windows of a home,
not
a
half-orphan-orphanage.
The sun is shining somewhere.
Let's
go
sulking in the sunlight.
<3
Apr 16, 2012
Apr 16, 2012 at 2:58 PM UTC
The worst place to be on a Saturday evening is without a doubt
The orphanage on Broadway.
You see your friends' charming glares and airy laughs;
But then
You feel the children's wounded gazes and eerie smiles,
And they travel with you
For miles.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 10:42 PM UTC
The Little Boy child, Sitting in the Dust on the edge of the Porch that protruded from the Leaning shack of a Building. Extended forward his arm, Opened His Hand, Palm UP and Begged for "Just a CRUMB of Bread, Kind Sir? " The Pleading Eyes, Tearing from fear and Frustration, Peered deeply into the Crowds of People as they passed by. Waiting, Just waiting, for ONE to come forward and Place a small Morsel of BREAD or some other Fine Delicacy that would provide the Ultimate delight of Lasting Taste!! " Just a CRUMB of Bread, Kind Lady ? " Still, the crowds as they passed by, would only Stare in Dismay and continue on their way. BUT not without great Pangs of Compassion STARTING to tug on them ! ! The Smirks and Unsavory comments, such as, " Don't go near Him, He might have a Disease", "Make sure it's not a trap", "Don't even look at Him", "Such a disgrace, that child should be put in an Orphanage", " I,can't believe that's Permitted". . . . The SOBBING child only raised His head a Little Higher and Silently Muttered to Himself as the Many crowds of people continued to PASS BY. Perhaps a Hundred people have Passed by today, the Child thought, and not ONE offered even a helpful Smile or provided a Small CRUMB of Nourishing delight ! ! Where were they all going? The Child Mused,,,,,ALL I simply wanted was "Just a CRUMB of Bread" ! Unable to understand His Dilemma, the Child folded His arms across his chest, Hung his head and began to SOB Deeply.,,, SITTING in the DUST, Just waiting for a CRUMB of Bread! " IS there not ONE out there who would but share ONE Portion of their Plenty?" ___ The Sobbing Suddenly stopped! __ A Great feeling of Joy, Peace , Serenity and Comfort Enveloped over the Child's BODY ! AS the LORD took the Child unto HIS ***** and Breathed the Everlasting LIFE INTO him ! From Now on, the child would NEVER again ask______"JUST A CRUMB OF BREAD , KIND SIR ! "_______...
Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 3:06 AM UTC
Obedient
Superfluous minced rubicund aqua Phoenician
Our orphanage spills blood from picnics
Menopause conniptions lipstick
Her sons learning curve
Popstar gentleman suicide
The preschoolers last taste of Apple juice
Enola gay is soaring above the vain
Potential future poets and mathematicians
Bright eyes and innocent giggles
The souls of peace
Molecules disintegrate of wondrous dreams
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
If this is heaven... Please send me back to hell;
What I've done here to no one I will never tell
The goodness I've become is impossible after the deadly seven;
I was worst than the devil himself ever since I reached the age of eleven.
Why must I wish to be back where evilness only what I know to do?
Perhaps it's because I am someone when I was me and I belong only to the few
But I must also know that there's a time in my life where I prayed to a sleeping God;
I never knew my parents name in an orphanage I grew up and loneliness was the best company I had...
Now that I am old waiting for my final hours writing down all my sins keeping a note of goodness;
Although that note is empty perhaps it's because I doubted if what I've done are purity and sweetness...
I am now on my knees confessing, for the last 70 years of madness and angered soul;
Where I were hoping each day that God let out a lightning to strike me and have it all.
I remembered ****** clear as the tears now that falls down my cheeks;
That crashes down while my heart wails for forgiveness my lips don't move but my mind speaks
All of the crimes I've committed in cold blood, freezing my heart to feel no guilt as I smirk and grin;
I even dared the almighty to save that man's life while I gently squeeze the trigger,bullet pierces his chin...
I cannot recall more of those memories it makes me weep and finally feel the guilt;
I am still breathing yet I know I am already burning in hell my soul can feel the heat
All I ever do now,I'll say it again is waiting for my coming end while never a moment pass I've prayed;
And hope this diary will be read by God just in case, I fall to my death and in hell my soul decay...
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC
the orphanage's walls
tell a story grim
what went on inside of them
so disturbing
up to twenty children kept in one room
crammed in so tight
together they huddled
both by day and by night
the children's elfin frames
deprived of proper nourishing food
their eyes had within them
little of love's light
they cried incessantly
a cry which implored
someone to deliver them from
the wall's fright
stale ***** and excrement pervaded the air
the odor hovered in their despair
the institutes cleanliness
lacking of hygiene
not much was kept
too well cleaned
these children
shall be impaired for life
for they were caged in a warehouse
of diabolical neglect
by the Romanian authorities
as you tuck your children into bed
tonight
give a thought
for a child devoid
of benevolent sunlight
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
1. Go a whole day talking in a western accent
2. write a 5 hour song
3. learn the rapping in "Empire State of Mind" and "Run this Town"
4. Go on a 3 month road trip on a Harley Davidson with only me, my guitar, what I'm wearing, the Harley, and the road
5. learn how to speak Hungarian, Greek, Latin, Hawaiian, Italian, Finnish, and Spanish, maybe some others
6. write a book
7. learn about Native American mythology and rituals
8. Learn how to survive on my own by making my clothing, food, supplies, tools, fire, and shelter
9. Build a yurt up in the mountains to live with wolves
10. Do a hang 10 on a surf board
11. ride a horse with wild horses
12. Paint a scenic picture
13. Protest for anything the government is against
14. Go to Europe and study art
15. Go on a train trip in Europe
16. Go to the Middle East and talk to woman about their rights
17. Go to Israel and West Bank and spray paint on both sides of the wall
18. go paragliding
19. Get or get close to winning a Nobel Peace prize
20. Help out at an orphanage
21. Learn sign language
22. go to help kids with cancer
23. Learn to play roque
24. live one year outside without spending 1 night inside
25. make a cook book
26. teach a African kid to read in English
27. Become a better poet
28. grant 28 people's biggest dreams
(This will be ongoing)
Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 3:37 PM UTC
Wonder why the hell I was born anyway?
Parents gave up to the orphanage
The orphanage sent to foster homes
One by one, no one really wanted me
And so I remained the "unwanted one".
Unhappiness hit, full to the being
Life was not worth living
And so I committed suicide.
But lo, even God didn't want me
Someone found me just before the last breath
Doctors rushed in, I continued to live
God saved me, because He didn't want me
And so I am forever wondering
Where really do I belong?
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC
There are too many people here.
Streets are crowded with vendors
and an indelible smell thickens.
Buildings are painted a faint blue, or pink;
they rise upwards, lofty and erratic.
On the balcony of my hotel their roofs are speckled;
one of every color.
Outlandish art fills sun-glazed shops.
Some are only twenty feet wide. Motorbikes
wiz down the cracked roads with intimidating speed.
I look up to the knotted powerlines strung above
cluttering the backdrop of twine green trees.
In the humidity, there is no fresh air.
I can scarcely breathe. Here is a city
impractically shaped, a different world,
but the tender is coming as I descend further.
In the interior is Birla Orphanage
where laughter spreads.
The children wade gigantic waves
on the shore of Do Son Beach.
Mucky water sticks to the sand on our skin.
A boy, three feet tall, beautiful bright brown eyes
peers into my life. I do not know his language,
the most we can do is share gaping smiles
as this city unfolds its secrets to me.
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
"It's Li'l Sean's tenth B'day,
forgotten in the orphanage loft.
He curls down
on the dust and
holds tight an once-vivid polaroid,
his lost family's
one spared happy remainder."
"Oh! Sweet Pea,
but Draco limped
his way to his li'l master
and licked off
his soar tears."
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 3:23 AM UTC
Light-years north of the purple, zephyr dome.
The saccharine amulet is like euphoria
Buried below the wet soil of Utopian plains,
An aura born of visual brilliance like the aurora borealis
Is this the homely orphanage for poetic spirits and souls?
The intuitive life- forms worthy of sempiternal light?
Tyrant Ignoramus's army is multiplying,
And assembling more power,
Lascivious like an extreme **********
Certainty of survival? No, there is not,
Nervous like claustrophobic Nibbana.
Life-forces forced to test
The stability of the precipice.
Can balance be maintained?
Only for so long....
Loping for miles,
Exhausting it must be,
Their hooves must go on and on,
Heedless of stopping.
Past Ignoramus's Fortress,
Past the Alchemist's Bridge over yonder,
Light-years north of the purple, zephyr dome.
The saccharine amulet is like euphoria
Buried below the wet soil of the Utopian plains,
An aura born of visual brilliance like the aurora borealis.
This is the homely orphanage for poetic spirits and souls,
The intuitive life-forms worthy of sempiternal light.
Originally written 7/30/11
Revised 10/17/14
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
She counts down from a hundred to one,
Clutching her love like a crutch.
He fumbles,
Hunting for his hunger.
They blot out doubt
And muster up their trust
"I'm fine" she cries,
As a child dies.
He learns,
He spits in her gritted eyes.
She reminds him that they're dying,
Burning while they turn
Spinning in his sheets
Struggling to breathe
Smuggling their dreams
In apologetic sweat
And ***** epithets
The infant actors beg for ******
Whispering the wishes that are listed in the script
Quoting moans that catch on choking throats
Pleading for release
Reading of futility
And mutual defeat
Delivering a finish
In pillowed soliloquys
Adolescent in the stillness
Adolescent in the heat
Adolescent in the promise
Adolescent in belief
She stutters love in ****** butterflies
On his rasping chest
As he gasps for breath.
She grasps at death,
While he grabs a cigarette.
Cast away in brackish blanket seas
They wrap themselves in fallacies
And laugh at their realities:
The cult of love belongs to Morpheus
And adulthood is an orphanage
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 12:00 AM UTC
Random mortar shells in the afternoon.
Sparkling, steel jacketed rain drops,
Glinting rainbows of reflected sunlight.
Plastic explosive seat cushions upon which passers-by,
Rest their weary bones.
C-4 candy bars, nuclear toothpaste,
****** for dessert.
Orphanage flambe', hospital hash, blood pudding.
Human burgers sizzling on a smart bomb bar-b-que grill.
Finger food, toe jam, baby-back ribs.
Bureaucratic double talkers,
Sugar coated body counts,
Colateral stew.
Really deplorable, awfully sorry,
But it was their own faults trying to put on raincoats.
They declined our invitation to the cook-out.
Bad luck to open an umbrella in the house.
Remotely piloted funeral processions.
Radar guided hearses.
Televised in real time.
Precision, surgical,
neutralized, deterrent, disarmed,
Deactivated, stand down, eliminate.
Living pawns on a battlefield checkerboard.
Strategic, defensive,
Dominate, annihilate,
Acceptable loss, public opinion pole.
Listen to the tinkling of sabre blades,
Rattling windchimes,
In the warm breeze of the shockwave,
Accompanied by the drumbeat of detonation and concussion.
Rock...
...and heads will roll.
Holy, blessed,
Patriotic, brave,
Courageous, dedicated,
Heroic, dutiful,
Self sacrificing...
******
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
I see you laying there
starving
sleep deprived
yearning for a home
Now of course if I see this
it's not something I'd condone
So I take you in and for once
love is the only thing your shown
But I guess too much love is infectious
My guards down I'm defenseless
As you grow sick
You grow expectant
of me
Of me cleaning your mind with my hand made disinfectant
Of me feeding you
Feeding you with a dish of my famous soul stew
Of me staying up till 4
Staying up because The thought of you asking
and me not having the perfect reply devours me to the core
Of me picking at myself
Picking at my skin to make sure that these arms you call your home are presentable
Of me being selfless
So selfless that I forget to eat and I won't rest because I feel inclined
I HAVE to give you the best
Of me trying to be name brand
Trying to be name brand because you've had enough cheap ones
and so I give you real because for once they will attack and we will remain strong standing hand in hand
But i guess even name brands wear out
Ive been trying to replace the worn pieces with out a doubt
Though
I have no help because of my reputation
I have to make the parts with my bare hands and imagination
Don't worry about me though
I'm done with this hell
My orphanage is going back on the market
Going for sell
And if there's no one brave enough to step up to the plate then I guess I'll have to blow this house down on my own
It won't even be hard because I'm not like my brother who made his of stone
As I said from the beginning
I see you laying there
starving
sleep deprived
yearning for a home
Now of course if I see this
it's not something I'd condone
But baby now My walls are brittle
So I'll just cheer you on
"You got this! Been doing this since you were little."
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 10:51 AM UTC