On Parenting, Sometimes

The pain of a child who has forgotten cheers behind teetering footfall, hands held into sleep tears kissed into laughter and monsters banished by embrace the pain of words rendered machete sharp carry death more sure than malignancy We spill blood for our children we want a fat life so we give, naively expecting kindness from the universe in the form of a smile or some small affection but instead of the cosmic greeting card that we picture while waiting with open veins we get a blade or worse, nothing It would be sad to watch tear shed when parting when filling with pride or agonizing over taunts missed balls, lost friends Humans prefer to hide sad things A child doesn’t see the empty pockets that actually fill their world or the youth that was bartered for their opportunities The pain is never intended it grows resplendent in hidden recesses it doesn’t need sun or water or venom It exists because we will it when we wake to hungry cries we will it when we trade trinkets with demons to keep them at away From the moment we conceive we let our blood and fade away