The Child
Young child,
Oblivious, reckless, meaningless troubles
No purpose does the child serve.
Throbbing hearts beat in my hand
Yet the child lay naked and starved.
A man I have become overnight.
The child’s youthfulness disturbs me.
Expecting his death, her death, my death
Become someone else’s young wife
While I prepare for her son to fall at my kee
I am ready to let this child go free.
Time is up!
I have baggage
I am damaged goods.
Don’t write, don’t speak, don’t think
Do you understand?
With my ego fully clothed
Nothing means nothing
And nothing needs talking about.
My men, my life, my fight, their fight.
No room for a child’s spirit
The child’s hands are clean, and mine dirty.
Find another likeminded sprout
One strike, two-strike.
I’m out.
About this poem
This poem was inspired by a young man who goes through war and leaves behind his young girlfriend. He talks about her as if she is a child and he is a grown man but the two are of the same age.
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Submitted by Lyricalhuman on June 01, 2021
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 39 sec read
- 7 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | XXX AX BC XXC CXXX XA XXD BXC DXD |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
Characters | 740 |
Words | 131 |
Stanzas | 9 |
Stanza Lengths | 3, 2, 2, 3, 4, 2, 3, 3, 3 |
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"The Child" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 20 Sep. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/101486/the-child>.
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