I cannot sing but my mind consists of rhythms, rhymes and lyrics to my heart’s beat.
I see the pain of the ones who are real, the yearning for a connection with depth and meaning
The agony of being misunderstood, and the loneliness that comes with being isolated
I hide my eyes to those seeking attachment to souls, afraid to be discovered as one of their own
For years, I lived the same pain… an unfulfillment that made me feel insane
To be that kind of real searching for the same is to imprison yourself
Not many are willing to take what we give and the rejection adds to the hurt
Or, we find the ones who take it all, with only greedy intentions and emotional stabs
The ones who’ll take until we fall then steal anything left while we’re down and out.
However, what maybe we fail to see, is being real and being selfless don’t always agree
We want to believe we’re the ones who give unselfishly, but with love unreciprocated, we still cry and bleed
So, really, is what we need not greedy?
Or is it that we’re just as selfish for what we’re expecting when connecting?
Who’s to say everyone should want our hearts and souls poured onto them, adding to the burden we all already have?
Isn’t it rude to assume that our need for someone’s everything is a form of loving genuinely?
Why wouldn’t it be that we’re trying to fulfill a once neglected feeling by desperately reflecting it onto everyone we meet?
Maybe everyone else is ahead of the game, and they’ve learned not to be an emotional lush
They protect what is theirs, sparing themselves from the pain of broken trust
We wear our heart on our sleeve, but that’s not where it’s meant to be
They keep their heart tucked away, in a much safer place
I see the pain of the ones who are real
There once was a time when I was just like them but now I cover my eyes when I see them pass by
Because I’ve learned the language of the other kind and it’s so much easier to love from the safe side
Still, my foolish love lives within my eyes, which is why you’ll rarely catch them through my perfect disguise
Troubled expressions causing false perceptions
My personal negligence creating new deceptions
Rejection’s infection adds new complexions
My reflection tempts defection
Except for that one exception…
the intersection of affection
A mother’s love begins with a seed
An unseeable force that lives within she
This growing seed brings morning sickness and emotional instability
But not even backaches and cramps can send her love fleeing
This is a love no father can ever conceive
For baby’s creation happens within she
A mother’s love is pure and remains unconditionally
For over nine months, it’s just you and she.
Two hearts connected physically and spiritually
Thoughts of baby consume her days and nights undeniably
This tiny person she is creating is the most significant one she’s lived to see
For you are, and will always be, her sweet baby.