Second Hand Son

— Larry T. Hollist

You are just fake mommy and daddy!!!!
You think I’m just a second hand son!!”

I show my pearly whites
And literary bite my tongue
To keep from saying,
“So where are your ‘real parents?’
How come they are not here?”

It is the same old song,
The anger directed at me
So he doesn’t have to feel the pain,
Of those who have disappointed him
Again, again, again and again again.

A tear starts to form in my eye
From his words, his pain
And biting my tongue.
Yet I hope that my enduring love
May one day break down the walls
Of the stone house he has built
To protect his bruised and tender heart.

Maybe one day
We can sit down
And share a cup of coco,
Topped with:
3 mini-marshmallows,
Fresh ground nutmeg,
A pile of whipped cream,
And him knowing that he holds
The honor position in my heart
As my first-born son.

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