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)