Your Inner Child - Portrait of a Spurned Lover
Tears fall from you easily
Your voice falters as if
you are too weak to speak
carefully feigned timidity.
Fragile spoiled child, unaware he is grown.
You ceremoniously
point out your every deed,
expecting gratitude
doled out immediately.
Instant gratification required.
You offer your affection
like a shiny weapon-
polished, but un-sharpened
and for your sole protection.
Constantly seeking central attention.
You repeat your “offering”
bellowing out loudly
howls turning suddenly
to shrill insistent screams...
No conception of reason or limits.
You finger my transgressions;
ball your hands to a fist
beg apologies kiss-
negotiate concession.
Mothering men is not my perversion.
Seems I am too rude and crude
and totally heartless
ignoring advances
that fluctuate with your mood.
My insensitivity serves me well.
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