Michael Harman Poet I do not know?

Light Child

A child is born
all loving, forgiving, honest,
a special child of the light,
eyes wide open, awake,
the wolves are happy,
to feast at the table of its suffering.
Feed it just enough love to survive,
milk it of its light, little by little
suckling its love, its forgiveness,
a sweet delicacy for a vampiric world.

The child becomes a young adult...
control, conformity, submission,
overwhelming expectations,
no freedom, no love, no peace,
a barrage of others suffering,
cant get it off me, out of my head!
out of my heart, it hurts!
Its all too much! 
Why do they all hurt me?
Why are they not honest like me?
How can they be so mean to me?
What is wrong with me?
I just want a taste of love, 
to remind me why I am alive!!

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Patrick Parks April 25, 2011 at 9:47 AM What does this human love taste like, Michael? I cannot remember if I've ever known. So much love has been given to me on the end of a string, with a hook inside the bait, that I'm reluctant to swallow. I do not tie a hook on the rainbows I offer. Did God intend us to own or be owned by the pretty flowers we adore? Isn't the promise of freedom that I pledge a way of giving love too? Why am I scorned for my gift of a warm hand on a lonely night? Must I also pay for the devotion I give?

Colleen Bono December 26, 2009 at 11:25 AM This is very nice.About the comment on my poem The Other Side,read To Whom it may Concern and it will answer your question.Hope you have great holidays.

Anthony Nutter December 26, 2009 at 4:36 AM I feel the raw emotion in this write, on the dark side which is where my poetry dwells most of the time and what I prefer to read. Excellent imagination shows in this piece. BTW thanks for the comments on Angels Above you have mail.