The Child Inside of Me

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Abstract

because he was me, but older, and yet, somehow, still a child inside</p><p id="1a81">I stayed in my room all the time not because I was so fine being alone but because I was waiting Waiting every day to hear it again, waiting for disaster to strike and for what I heard to be true and for it to slowly dismantle my soul and take her away, leaving me vacant and putting me back in that corner, stuffing myself full of distress</p><p id="9e35">When I look at myself now I see an adult, but not in my eyes In the puddle of tears forming and the reflection is that child The little redheaded mother’s son so hopeful and so loved now trapped inside an iris unable to emote but for one tear and looking out through my eyes hoping to see her and seeing nothing And for that I blame myself because

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I kept him inside of me and wouldn’t let him grow up so he doesn’t know how this ends and he remains hopeful and I remain destroyed</p><p id="ad4a">© <a href="undefined">Jonathan Greene</a> 2020</p><p id="5b9a">If you liked this, you might like this as well:</p><div id="c713" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-hole-e3765ab4a5e7"> <div> <div> <h2>The Hole</h2> <div><h3>A Poem About Darkness</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*IDxo4z6RquVUk_NI)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

A Poem

I think I might still be him, the child I left behind on that day when I found out, when I wasn't supposed to, but I did, and cancer sounded bad so I pretended I didn’t know and even though I did that I was forced to uncouple and I left that little boy behind sitting in the corner of his room holding in all of his emotions and then years later I would see him because he was me, but older, and yet, somehow, still a child inside

I stayed in my room all the time not because I was so fine being alone but because I was waiting Waiting every day to hear it again, waiting for disaster to strike and for what I heard to be true and for it to slowly dismantle my soul and take her away, leaving me vacant and putting me back in that corner, stuffing myself full of distress

When I look at myself now I see an adult, but not in my eyes In the puddle of tears forming and the reflection is that child The little redheaded mother’s son so hopeful and so loved now trapped inside an iris unable to emote but for one tear and looking out through my eyes hoping to see her and seeing nothing And for that I blame myself because I kept him inside of me and wouldn’t let him grow up so he doesn’t know how this ends and he remains hopeful and I remain destroyed

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