Receipt for a Ruined Child

Dear mom and dad,

I won't pick up the phone.

I still hold a grudge

From when I felt alone.

You threw me in a place

That was an adolescent hell,

And my cavity of joy

Grows into a cold and steel cell.

In hopes of my salvation

You took your imperious hand 

And placed me on a road of strain

To be a star among the damned.

But I wavered beaten and hopeless,

Inadequate and pathetic.

They ravaged my formative heart

And spit all over my ethics.

I've never felt so ashamed

To know I was myself.

I faded into obscurity;

Mediocrity was my stealth.

Four years of grief and struggle

Burn my future life of plenty

And leave me lost in destitution,

A vagrant in the many.

I told you I was angry.

I told you I was sad,

But this illusion of my future

Is the only child you had.

I don't want to be your failure

But I can never change.

You see, my happiness is relative

To the annual sum I'm paid.

Corrupted and estranged,

I am your broken boy,

But you cannot return me,

Because a child is not your toy.


This poem is about: 


Germaine Quest

Thank you for putting my feelings into words.

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