I spent my whole life waiting for death
I planned for him, I expected him, I dreamed of him
And when I was old and had lived my life
I locked myself in this tower and threw away the key
I prayed for death, so I could stop waiting
My hair grew gray, my bones grew weak
Death lurked in the shadows of darkness
But still he would not come
And then I decided to take my own life instead
Since death was not kind enough to come to me
I would come to him
I jumped from my tower and landed below 
But I felt no pain from the fatal fall
I returned to my tower to try again
For surely I had done something wrong
But as I reached the top of the tower I noticed my mistake
A skeleton sat in my old rocking chair
My skin and soul had left it long ago
I had spent so much time waiting for death
That in the end I had missed his visit

They stand together, a row of familiarity, crammed into tiny bodies, bolden with bright shirts. 

They stare out from underneath gigantic bags full of learning and unquenchable thirst.

I see them first as they have come before me, but as they walk I witness the transformation.

The awakening of an idea.

The complexity of thought in the eyes of one so small.

They walk upon legs so strong they could lift up the wieight of the world

And within their souls I find my own strength.

I am weak in comparision, but still somehow, he holds a piece of me within him

As he walks down the bright corridor, to adventure unknown.

He smiles back with innocence and hope, and then continues on.

To live, to learn, to hold, as only Isaiah can.

And silently, as I leave the confinements of his grasp I cry soft gentle tears.

My baby grows.

My life is but a memory

Cold upon the fire. 

The embers died out long ago

Melting in with my perspire.

I wished for such a long time

To reach inside your shell.

But so deep within you I only found

The burning pits of hell.

I wish that you could understand the words you need to hear

But it seems that you are too far away

To lend me your tender ear.

Please take with you my condolences

It seems you need them now.

I only pray

That maybe someday

You can help me somehow.

~Am

I held the door open for much too long

and now all that remains is vancany.

Devoid of thought

lacking in emotion

thought and apathy.

I cried once upon a time for you

and now all my tears have been shed.

Do not expect me to mourn your passing

for it seems you have always been dead.

I smile today

for the first time in years

at the thought of your loving embrace.

Perhaps tomorrow you can hold me tight

without asking for breathing space.   

A small wet spot, a crying baby, a rock hard breast. 

He smells the old familiar smell and cries more vigoursly. 

It is his life, he craves it more than all else. 

More than me even. 

And so I give in each time. 

The release of the milk, warm inside my breast. 

And he smiles at me with eyes aglow of love and happiness. 

An altruistic relationship have we. 

He releases me from my pain and torture and I from his. 

How cold, harsh, decieving it must be to him that I would refuse him his bliss. 

How mean I must seem to him. 

But how do I explain words such as biopsy and cancer to an infant. 

It tortures me so.