Wanting a Baby
I’ve all these feelings stacked up.
All this love that ends in misdirected emotional investment.
I’m an over-flowin’ cup,
with an inability to pay so much as a room’s worth of rent.
I’ve all but died.
Every chance I get, I jump into trouble out of boredom.
My ship sailed/ plane flied.
I spent all I had and then some.
I feel that my life has a child in its wake.
I want to be helpful through his every mistake.
But I’m too much of a foible/fake.
I’m the child who ruins the wedding cake.
But oh me, oh my.
If I could raise a kid and look him in the eye,
give him all the lessons I’ve learned, the how to’s and the why,
I’d then and only then be happy to just die.
So, I’ve put myself out there. Been foolish beyond reason.
Who better to care? Or understand the right season?
Or perhaps I’ll have to bear this life without–
A child to call my own, my own little Stout.
But God, know this, I like to have a baby to kiss.
I like to have an infant to hold.
A person to correctly instruct instead of scold.
I like to see the eyes of the new.
I like to try to personify you.
So give me a bay to raise as my own;
After all the lessons I’ve learned that you’ve shown!
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