my poems

My Boy

I'll never forget the look in his eyes,

as he was struggling to apologize.

"I'm sorry for what I did,

the secrets that I hid."

"What are you talking about son?

Please tell momma what you have done,"

I said unable to understand,

brushing his cheek gently with my hand.

He stood there crying in silence,

hands showing signs of violence,

telling more than what he had said,

his knuckles were stained rusty red.

"tell me what did you do?"

I asked scared but I knew.

"I lost myself enraged,"

his expression had aged.

"Momma do you still love me?"

he spoke with pain clear to see.

I saw two of him one young and one old,

"I'll always love you," is what I told.

I heard sirens closing the distance,

"but please go without resistance.

It hurts me having to say,

that you need to go away."