Your son waits for you to get home,
long after you said you would arrive.
He longs for presents on his sixth birthday
and to feel your once loving embrace.
He wants you to say, "I love you," when he needs it most
and tuck him in when his eyelids grow heavy.

But, you won't be home.
You won't be there to feed him
or watch him grow.
You'll be in the company of killers,
breathing and addictive,
while he is in the company of

You won't be the one to teach him right from wrong
or hold him when he cries.
For you are the reason his tears fall
on the nights he lies, waiting.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem