It's sloppy and free verse, but it's not supposed to be a perfect, pretty little poem.
Back bent slightly
By the weight of the world
Hands always fisted
Against life’s strong tolls
Tied up so tightly
In a ball of self protection
Rolled up so tensely
In a wall of self destruction.
You keep getting lost
In your mind mazes
And you keep gripping firm
To your own broken heart.
Screaming against an unmoving wall
And fighting a losing battle
The child inside screams-
Twisted and burned.
Head held high in false pretence
And hands shaking lightly
As fear grips rigid
You lose it slightly.
Your eyes have reached
The cavern of madness
And the confusion
Drives you insane.
You push away
The ones sustaining love
And softly smother
The soft touch of
Trust.
When will you
See?
The apple doesn’t
Fall far from the tree
Dad. . .
