Also appears in Virtual Library.
When I was a selfish little runt,
it was all about me.
It didn’t matter who I insulted,
what person I bothered.
Because I denied the fact
that I could make people cry.
I denied that I could do
an innocent person harm.
Now looking back,
those hurtful memories
return to me
like a smack in the face,
a boot in the ass.
It is my turn to feel the pain
from a selfish little runt
whose words burn in time.
©️mft
The poem
lures me
through
a narrow
uncertain path.
As I walk
the corridor,
my mind
unravels
like a lotus
blooming
at midnight.
A small
window
of opportunity
surprises me,
opening up
in fragrant
and colorful
petals,
only for a second
then it fades.
©️mft
I don’t want to go back to the place of my childhood. But I don’t want to forget.
No dreams
No restless legs
No Jiminy Cricket chattering
in my ear to keep me awake.
Just a deep sleep
with a train of Zzzz’s
that seemed to serpentine
above me
into the celestial night.
A pleasant, restful slumber
as if a fairy godmother had tucked me in.
As if she read my favorite story
in her soothing, sleepytime voice.
Nighty-night, my little son,
the fairy with fluttering wings said,
as she waved her magic wand
that glittered over my somnolent head.
©️mft
