Mercy

I kneel before you once more.
     No longer do I see an immature fool,
     But my innocent, loving son, whom I broke.

Your mother told me about those cries of joy
     That she heard , and I did not.
Your innocent voice,
      That to most is ‘adorable’.
To me ,
       Was once spoken by a boy
        Deserving of death,
        For simply,
        Being a child, lacking discipline, or something,
        That only I understand, to all else, is but madness and tyranny.

The trees, birds, life
    You loved so much,
     Remains…
Without that exuberant,
     Innocent child , playing in its green,
     All because of me…
Those leaves falling slowly, whisper to me,
     The cries of your happiness,
      That I alone destroyed.

And so, my dear demented son,
     I shall sing your mother’s song.
From my cold-blooded heart of hate,
     Now shattered with pain and tears..

Where are you?