Posted by Olsen Potter in

Waiting with a five year old
in the doctors office
with the bruise hiding his face.
I wish I could cover myself.

I didnt do it...
His mother, a meth user,
hit him in the night
when he had a nightmare,
wet his bed,
called out her name...
she didnt care.

But people dont know that.
They think I'm the dad,
I'm the culprit of this crime,
That I was jealous of his black eyes,
his brown cheeks,
his spanish voice.

I wish I could mask myself as white powder,
and tape her striking her son,
but I can't,
so I sit and wish I was camouflaged.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, October 02, 2007 at 10:14 AM and is filed under . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .


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