a letter to my son...

im sorry that your never at ease
sleepless nights, turning and tossing
always on my terms you can never grow
the potential you have is crazy
but i will always hold you back,
afraid of what you can accomplish
i won't allow you to prosper...

hungy--
you're one of those slick talkers, even if you can't talk
your hunger and passion is illuminating
you see even farther that i do
your light is mine, and that time you cried
and i held you, because noone esle could--
the other donor left before you can say your first
sentence: 'i'm hungry, mom.'
so i was left holding you...

son, i believe you cry because i can't provide
single mother living in extremely well conditions
with the most amazing 3 year old-- you
my son, Adonis
you glow in every aspect, you're only 3 but you see real
your light is mine, and with every blow i give you
not wanting you to prosper, you work around that
and live up to your name.

we think of people to give the weight of the world to
i chose you... you aren't my burden but i will make you it
too weak to anty up and take initiative, you'll become
my tainted harbor. apologies won't even cover that hole
in your heart, knowledge beyond my years-- you're are only
3 and you look at me with eyes filled with broken promises
empty dreams and aspirations, shit i said that were only
true half the time.

so i guess my sorry wasn't good enough...
that last poem i made you and asked you to comment on
didn't meet your priorities..