My Son
by Zettel
Posted: Wednesday, July 27, 2011 Word Count: 183 Summary: Not autobiographical. But the 1st person seemed right |
My Son
I taught my son to walk
by instinct he could cry
you taught him how to march
how to kill, how to die
I taught my son to talk
by instinct he could think
you taught him to obey
to withstand pain, not blink
I taught my son to ride
by instinct he could thrill
you taught him how to fly
and throw a switch marked kill
I taught my son to care
by instinct he was kind
you helped him shut his eyes
to other's pain be blind
I taught my son to read
by instinct he could play
you taught him not to question
keep conscience well at bay
I helped my son to love
by instinct he could feel
you taught him how to hate
with penetrating steel
I teach my son no more
he lies here cold and dead
I wish your sick man's game
had taken you instead
I taught my son to live
still hear his cries of joy
you made a man of him
but I will ever cherish
a precious long lost boy
I taught my son to walk
by instinct he could cry
you taught him how to march
how to kill, how to die
I taught my son to talk
by instinct he could think
you taught him to obey
to withstand pain, not blink
I taught my son to ride
by instinct he could thrill
you taught him how to fly
and throw a switch marked kill
I taught my son to care
by instinct he was kind
you helped him shut his eyes
to other's pain be blind
I taught my son to read
by instinct he could play
you taught him not to question
keep conscience well at bay
I helped my son to love
by instinct he could feel
you taught him how to hate
with penetrating steel
I teach my son no more
he lies here cold and dead
I wish your sick man's game
had taken you instead
I taught my son to live
still hear his cries of joy
you made a man of him
but I will ever cherish
a precious long lost boy