I look and listen as you roar,
so unlike the child you were before,
all full of kisses, hugs and love.
But now your demons have you shove
and scream and kick, your angry show
makes me hate the Hyde in the boy I know.
I doubt myself
and my place in this
family of ours,
so often stretched,
to breaking point,
because of this wretched
condition of yours.
But just like that, all is, once more, serene
but we know we’ll play out this scene
sometime soon: days, weeks, maybe months, if we
get lucky. We wait and see.
It disturbs the rhythms of our life.
School and work; child and parent; husband and wife.
We all get hurt, some more than others.
Feeling so lost, it stifles and smothers.
An original poem – please seek permission before reproducing in any way.