When The Child Drops His Nap

Exhaustion blurred his burning eyes
Inflamed the crumbling apertures
Rendering all his training and the dreams of success the training pledged in slick brochures and chummy fireside chats
He’d forgotten how to sleep
A total disconnect from the gifts his mother gave him
All the patient opportunities she presented daily, hourly
And now his life forever will feel this way
Or so he believes
Truth is if he called his mother she may unlock the secret passage to restoration
But can he remember the number
Or has the synaptic drought become complete?
Oh for the love of god a cool room and a warm bed and a delicate hand to caress his back is all he needs
Don’t abandon him again, even though we all know he abandoned you


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