It's all theory
And a bunch
Of hoity toidy
High faluten'
Ph.D's talkin'
‘bout some
Emotional
State
Void of
Compassion
Talkin' ‘bout
Real people like they are only
Data points
On a
Bell curve.
But Steven's
Father died
Before
He could become
A man
He would have
Been proud
Of.
“No tears.
Be strong.”
It's all
Bull#$%^…
Then 3 years
Later his
Own son
Is born
And he
Is broken open
Heart blown a part
The floodgates
Spill
As the sobs
Of agony
Groan forth
As his son
Wriggles
His own cries…
Racking, Rasping, Rocking,
Like a child
The man rips the air
With grief
With joy
Feelings of
Abandonment
Moments of
Memories
Of love…
All at once
Like a dam
Blown to
Hell
With dynamite…
He isn't weak
He's complete
With himself
With his father
And the
New born
Wet and pink
In his hands
Kissed,
Blessed,
By a Man
Who has
Survived
His
Catharsis…
He's no
Data point
He's a real
Person…
With a life
A story
And now
A son.
