Delicate as an orchid in full bloom.
To touch, to feel, the softness of its flesh.
A sin to blemish, its pinkish skin.
Eyes wide, a sponge, inhaling the nourishment it deserves.
To live a life, in the arms of a mother and father.
An honor and a privilege on them bestowed.
A choice was made to multiply from two.
The consequences for which they knew.
Singing everyday, the trouble it caused.
Empty pockets, barely a can in the cupboard.
Struggling to make ends meat.
Only if, he was never born.
Life would be easy.
It’s all his fault.
As the anger grew, it flourished
More beautiful than that orchid.
The hate was its vibrant petals.
It opened up and spread it’s presence.
If looks could kill, it would explode.
The only place this child felt safe.
Was hiding under the bed.
He keeps falling, he’s such a klutz.
That’s all, anyone ever knew.
Why he was covered, black and blue.
When all is quiet and not a creature moving.
His dreams came alive.
The images of a wonderful life.
One, with a loving family.
Years pass through the trauma of time.
He shows love, in spite of a crime.
Yet, he shuts out any ounce given with compassion.
He suffers from being unworthy and yes, it’s a mind disease.
A gift received, from the hand that rocks the cradle.