Not really poetry…just writing (which is why I started the other thread which nobody was interested in):
I watch the young boy of maybe 3 run out to his mother. His tear-stained cheeks is all it takes to see he is very upset. He wails and wails as he falls into his mother’s arms. She embraces him with a comforting word and a smile. Hugging him tightly, she reassures him that everything is fine. I watch in utter disgust. I stare, I cringe, and a tear drips from my eye. Why can’t I have that? Why can’t I have the mother to turn to when I’m in distress. Instead, I walk down the street, struggling to appear normal. Yet, inside, my wounds are burried deep within me in the crevices of my soul. My broken heart is hidden from the world. And I can’t run to mommy in the street. Nobody’s there to embrace me. Nobody’s there to offer me comfort. That is why I’m crying.