Sweet Child of Mine 



plucking strings, six strung on a neck made of wood and ivory.
pulled from a body, hollowed out to capture the sounds, strummed by a black heart.
the sadness vibrates from a core, dug the many graves from lifes fails.
names called out, no one ever hears, the cries of a child, sprouting feathers black as coal.
times, tried to fly.
equals times, ends in a fall.
heldless hand on a walk, first steps, first cries, puddled on a floor, left to rise on his own.
“sweet child of mine”, the words of an angel sighs.
life is cruel, in this world.
better to make-believe than die in pain.

journey deep into the soul.
grasp the feelings inside, body, heart and mind.
choose the fabric, swathed over flesh.
lace and leather, T’s over jeans, a suit and tie.
cloth spun, hide stretched, stitched by child hands.
sweat that pours over tired young eyes.
to give fashion a lift, for two bits and a cow.
“sweet child of mine”, the words of an angel sighs.
life is cruel, in this world.
better to make-believe than die in pain.

white light, softly swirls like cotton candy.
harps played, floating on clouds drifting by.
a peace, that envelopes the heart, cradled in love.
only an imagination could contrive.
like the yellow brick road that leads to the city of oz.
theres no place like home, theres no place like home
home is what we make of it, make it good.
“sweet child of mine”, the words of an angel sighs.
life is cruel, in this world.
better to make-believe than die in pain.

AntönyRös