Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.167
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
***********************************************************************

My first session with Kamar had gone rather well,
despite the fact that I felt as if I’d just returned from hell.
My Son had another episode and had to yet once again be hospitalized.
He lost his housing privileges also, which in turn left me somewhat traumatized.
Of course Kamar was supportive and tried to make me come to see
that I’ve been more than a true loved one could ever possibly be.
I recall Her going on and on about all of the good things that I’ve done
to try to help and rehabilitate my loving but sick Son.
I know that She means well but my attitude is, “So What.”
All that hard work and all the time spent and what have we got?
A young man who most likely will never be able to care for himself
because he’ll probably always be in the worst mental health.
I can’t live forever. What will become of him when I’m gone?
Thoughts like that haunt me daily. Sometimes I think I just can’t go on.
That’s why these sessions with Kamar are so very important to me.
She shows me strength hidden within me that sometimes I’m just too blind to see
and she constantly reminds me that Hope comes in many forms,
that there’s new research on the horizon that may someday right all these wrongs.

***********************************************************************

We covered most of the tragedy that was the life of my Son’s Mother.
She too is also a hero of sorts and she’s one unlike no other.
She was pretty much abandoned at her very moment of birth
by her mom who disappeared off of the face of the earth.
Her mom took off with her father’s best friend.
She probably had legitimate reasons,
but she left her children behind in the hands of a fiend.
He was the ultimate in child perversion.
So at the age of eight, she was on her own.
She had no choice but to run away.
She’d rather eat from dumpsters and sleep in depots.
Living at home had a far worse price to pay.
The cold of some nights were never as cold as his cold and clammy old hands
all over her sweet innocence whenever he desired. Whenever Her Daddy Demands.

***********************************************************************

To continue click NEXT for Sessions Shared With Kamar Part 2
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required