My son

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Fix my thoughts, for they aren't always pure. Fix my fuse so it's never ending. Fix my voice so it is never loud with my frustration. Fix my eyes so they do not blur.
Constant ruminating, its recirculating. I look at you, while my mind seems to be illuminating From the watchers eye, you know nothing, Yet you hold the knowledge of solely entrusting, without judging.
“Life sucks. Then you die.” Said a father to his son The father was bored at the son’s baseball game The father never came to another one Only one vacation to the shore
I want a Son I want to witness my baby boy’s birth. I want to show him his promise, his worth.
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