Living Standards
My dear mother she rocked my cradle in the night.
I fell asleep looking at the flying circus.
I woke up one day as I placed my hands near the sink and saw that
They had grown.
I yelled as I threw water over my face and wiped it off with a towel to no effect.
The fatherly figure looked at me like I was a stranger in his eyes.
It was many years of unwanted material thrown across my face.
I looked at the new breed, as I seemed so different maybe it was my veins.
Speaker was away shouting all day in my ear to my distress I had to bear all.
The pointed finger made me look at the world in a new way.
I walked the path of fire as I burned the bridges made by nature.
I sat on my seat wondering which path was mine.
Little angel of forgotten soul looks at his demise.
(Reflective poem)
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