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Bryant

Bryant I see him hold back the tears. His lips quiver and shake. Too young, he hasn't the years. A decision he didn't make. Mama will protect you. And when you're angry too. I will hold you when you cry. And love you if you lie. Confusion settles in. I'm at a loss myself. I just want him to smile, to grin. Those dreams are on a shelf. Innocence stolen and gone. My sweet boy When will this be done? My sweet boy This poem was written about my six-year-old son who was molested by his father.

Should I Not? - A Quatern

Should I not be true
To words that flurry in praise
When heart speaks fondly of you
Drunk in loving embrace?

Should I not make merry
This rum-soaked passion
Or peel away in loathsome agony
Let all the goodness ashen?

Should I not yearn
For a lifetime of this bliss
- A future I discern
That’s replete with your kiss?

Should I not then conclude
A life sans this pleasure
Is an abyss of crushing solitude
And regrets for good measure?