Am I all that you hoped I would be?
Or am I the shapeless void
That engulfs me inside?
Did you envision me this way
When you first gazed into my eyes?
All your hopes and dreams,
All your fears and fragilities,
All your potential
Put into this one tiny being,
A boy
But not a prince—
Always a poet—
Deep in thought.
The thinker,
You would call me.
Your little thinker.
Your doting eyes,
Observing me,
Studying my features,
Adoring each aspect,
Cherishing each crevice.
Your nurturing voice
Always there
From my moment of sentience,
Wakened in the womb
To a love that lingers little
Out in the world,
A world I was never ready for.
Are we ever ready?
So, here I sit,
Thinking—
Wondering—
Am I who you saw,
Who you envisioned,
Who you hoped for?
Or am I just an alien ghost
Trapped within a familiar shell?
Have I made you proud?—
I’d never question this aloud—
You’ve been there,
Always,
But that will change.
When the veil’s been parted,
When the truth’s revealed,
When clarity is your window
Down into this deceptive world,
Will I be found worthy or wanting?
Will I make you proud,
Or petrified of the monster
Possessing the one
You poured your
Heart and soul—
Your all and all—
Into?
Into?
I question
Not your love,
Which has never failed,
But my hollowed heart,
A shade of the human,
The boy,
Whose innocence was imbibed
From the nipple,
Warm, welcoming—
Short lived.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Online) - Published: May 11th, 2025 07:19
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
Online)
Comments1
All too soon we are weaned and find ourselves, untethered - umbilically orphaned and with a voice in our mind that sounds like mom. 🙏🏻🕊️
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