A Child of Forgiveness
Sometimes I wake up and wonder,
Who have I become,
I draw the curtains from my eyes,
And realise I am numb,
I recognise my heart and face,
I just fail to see my soul.
Bruised in thought and flesh,
From an early age I fought,
Dreams burnt in drowning ash,
My love was never sought,
My mind a guarded stash
Afraid of deed or thought.
Broken, a boy remains a child,
My failing life, imitating art,
Sleep the summers now mild,
As winters dress a dying heart,
To write of memories filed,
The forgiving boy is still a child.
Copyright © Daniel Caplin | Year Posted 2024
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