Origin of solitude.

by Poet on the Piano   Jan 15, 2023

When people talk about raising their kids,
it's a strange concept,
imagining myself as an under-watered,
under-fed root,
slowly lifted by hands
that nurture me.

But, I didn't always see and feel
their hands.
Instead, confusion colored
and corroded my habitat,
a ravenous outlet of anger,
extracting the comfort
I used to know.

I grew, with able hands
at my side,
yet alone in every
pocket within.


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