It's like losing your only child
Because it's part of you
It needed all your strength and emotion to be born
And once breathing, written
You watch it develop and grow in the reading
Although it's the same and still is, as it was
When you gave that final scream
As all your pent up misery
gushed forward and left your body empty
And your mind light
If that should be lost,
The rest of my life would search to recall
and always create and re-create what was
seen only for the time it look to be born.
I'll always feel, when seeing others, that
Mine was the original
But lost, and therefore , to you, untrue.
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