I Child

 It is I child
It is I child that suffers
Not the lump of flesh n bones Not the hunk of a frame
Not the calm presence.
It is I child that pines To crawl back home To mother's lap
To love and peace.
It is I child that's abused By loud world
LuringI to fun and frolic, sex and wine
Power and fame Wealth and prosperity
Words and songs, Oh happiness.

It is I child that mimics Images I sees
Suave and expert The cool gang.
It is I child that cries Feeling inadequate Despondent and morose I must end this pain.

It is I child that wants
Desperately to run home
 But there is no one there
Vines of time pervade.

Nothing but memories
Only the sensations
of womb, warm, comfort, love
Yet more fantasies.

It is I child that dies
With each step forward
With each breath of stale air With each drink of putrid wine.

Save this I child
 Before you save the world
Build an empire
Or find happiness.

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