by James Kaymore
In life I am like a child, with paper and a colored crayon.
Scribbling about my work of art, with no ideal, about its ending or start. I pick up what I can grab, and as I drag my crayon around, there is a purpose, but no direction to be found. Yet I listen for the sound, of approval.
I sit in a soiled diaper, begging for you to pick me up, and you do, you turn your nose up but never mentioned that I smelled. As far as I can tell, because I have yet to form sentences, and I'm not aware of false pretenses.... But for some reason I hope that you change me. Bathe me, God I need you to rearrange me.
So that I can at least feel clean. You gave me bread when I wanted a bottle but you wouldn't pacify. You picked me up taught me to walk gave me chances I......
Never deserve, then I have the nerves, to wallow and cry, when you made me to be seen felt and heard.
Now I'm walking you got me talking forming sentences. When I'm going through I look to you even if I don't know what this is...
But whatever it is, I can't go through if you and I have no relationship.
Because without you, why bother. And yes I have love for mommy and daddy but now my first word is father.
This is my hands stretching, on my knees begging, for you to pick up your baby once more.
Unlock and open that once closed door. Release the flood gates and pour, blessings like an ocean on my shore.
Let your Son shine on me, through me, father use me. Help me to be kinder, to those who use me, a blessing for any with thoughts to abuse me.
Infuse me... with strength honor, courage knowledge and skill.
And with paper and colored crayon, please let your will. Become a masterpiece forever revealed.