The Loveless (Poetry)

What happens to the children who aren’t loved?
What do they wish while other dreamers lie
safe — secure within emotion’s web?
Who cares enough to count each wistful sigh
escaping as they worry — sleepless — sad
and wonder why they’re different — are they bad?

They are the ones who wait — unsure and shy —
hang back and seldom join in with the crowd —
theirs the eyes that question silently
but never dare to voice their thoughts out loud.
They mask their fear — believe they’re not the same —
accept they’ve only got themselves to blame.

The burden grows more heavy with the years —
they can’t forget — abandon what each knows
will always haunt them — make them doubt and fret —
denied affection’s warmth from even those
who did their duty but gave nothing more —
raised them loveless — showed them life’s cold door.

Late kindnesses cannot replace that lack
though friendship soothes the long-term damage done
when souls have been in shade their childhood through
while aching for one hour in the sun —
the flower of the spirit opens slow —
winter-bruised — half-hidden in the snow.