My son

A boy......such a peaceful soul, tortured to such an extent that he may be changed forever.

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1. My son

A silent tear  falls upon your cheek, your eyes pleading with me to reach out and wrap you tightly in my arms......my son.

Your lip trembles as you regale the day's events and question why  they target  'you.' I have no answers.

I can't reach out to you. I need to stay distant. I need you to stand up to them. I need to be cruel to be kind....my son.

As you wipe away that solitary tear with the back of your hand I can only explain that it wont last forever but I know that tomorrow will be ' same situation, different perpetrators.'  A mothers instinct to protect  her young conflicting with the need to teach you to be brave.......my son.

There is nothing that makes you ' stand out' from the crowd, nothing to make you a target. You are simply a loving, caring child but I can sense that you have taken as much as you can bear.  I ache to hold you tight but I am scared. Of what?  I am scared because I  can't be there to protect you. I am scared because I encourage you to retaliate.......my son.

Suddenly, you become angry and it sends a chill through my heart to hear the words that they cajole you because they enjoy your reaction, which is one of ' lashing out'.

I fear for your future. I fear losing the boy you truly are deep inside.

Bullies breed bullies and my heart breaks for you.......my son.

 

 

 

 

 

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