Stitch This

A poem about family dynamics…or should that be dynamite?

The youngest is often the smallest : dimensions are not super size : diminutive volumes mislead though : a tardis instead of insides :

when reminded of everyday manners : respect, etiquette, empathy : the steam starts to build up the pressure ; til he shouts at all and sundry:

the child is refusing all prisoners : this time he is in for the kill : in fact as i observe quite calmly : he may well just make himself ill :

i wonder sometimes just what caused this : this metamorphosis extreme : i know that i wish that he’d calm down : if only this was all a dream

I think that I’m really quite patient : I’ve tried to explain, I’ve held forth: on how kindness and helping others: will reap true rewards and have worth

But as i sit here in the twilight: trying to find words that rhyme: i see that i have to continue : to make sure that he tows the line

The alternative is just unthinkable : my son is at risk, that i know : he’ll end up in some mouldy bed sit: with no friends and nowhere to go

His mantle will remain quite empty : his phone bills will show no calls received : unless i can change his demeanour : his true self will not be believed

Because i know that despite those sharp spikes: a sweetie is lurking in there : and one day my efforts will pay off : and he will show us that he cares

He’ll sob as he says that he’s sorry: for all of those times when he’s cracked : and if that is wanting a miracle : I have faith that one day he’ll come back.