Tentatively waiting for life to stop passing me by.
Always asking the troubling question of why?
Sitting back; waiting, hating and deliberating.
Dropping the ball, starting to fall.
The long trip down.
Sink or drown.
Ups are scarce, hard to find.
Life has no option to rewind.
Time to make the right choice.
Stop being mute and raise my voice.
One Regular Dad 
ā”
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Nice poem. Being a dad must be tough. I’m sure you’re doing great š
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Yeah, time seems to go by in an instant some days. Thanks for the read.
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Childhood abuse stunts our ability to keep up with the speed of life.
We have stuck parts and shame that occupies our safety issues
A therapist once told me, even if you have to limp, get out on the dance floor
I try to limit any thought or judgment preventing me from doing something
Trauma has us narrating our life, we see danger, loss and embarrassment
It is a mirage
Our kids pick up on our trauma parts
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I totally get that.
These are more like emotional snapshots. Feelings in their rawest form personified.
Some from the past and yes some from the present.
Thanks for the info, have a great day,
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Great poem, and speak up!
And that picture, why does it look like its moving?
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Thank you so much, yeah I was really feeling the vibes of that picture.
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