Another of my son’s poems;
My life is plagued by demons
Awake all day and night.
THEY persecute me
Never let me rest.
The doctors support them
And don’t consider me.
I represent the bourgeois
I come from a good home.
Therefore, am not worthy of support
Only a kick in the pants.
Soon after writing this poem, David asked me;
“Tell me Mom. Do you know what the word virtue means?”
“Of course I do, David.”
“I bet you don’t. It means insufficient temptation.”
Then he pointed to a girl walking ever so slowly along one of the long corridors in the hospital that I had grown to hate.
“See that girl, Mom?”
“Well, she could be called a skeleton and over here, that means a bunch of bones with the person scraped off.”