My Weakness

I could see the face you wear all the time,
“They don’t care at all.”
You don’t want no more of us.
Run thought, run…
Spinning around my head,
It’s all your fault that my child died.
Like a broken record,
Playing all over again.
But this time with a knife on sight,
Television at the background echoing.
Trying to walk forward but everywhere I turn,
Shadows keeps creeping in,
Silently no sound was made.
Slowly approaching with one hand on my mouth,
One on my shoulders.
Turning its gaze back on my past.
Smirking it sees my weakness.
Corner of my eye sees a dark shadow looking straight at me,
Writing this down in the passage way.
Waiting patiently to strike me down with his claws.
Overhearing conversations been made with mother and daughter.
My ears hears too much untruthful words being spit out.
Anger tone rising, calmer tone steady support the balance between the two.
He is young soon to be 4,
His calm laughter seems to be liveable,
 Smiles keeps displaying on his joyful face.
Fooling around with his giant uncle Jay.
Sweet comforting sounds coming to me!
Unsteady heartbeat, now its rhythm is smoothly going down.
Child, you do not know your worth to me, the broken me.
Your presences saved me, from trembling down from up so high in the falling skies.

Gwen.P