Crisis PointMature

Crisis Point

I now come to a chapter,

That I myself,

Would wish to forget.

 

Never have I

Admitted this to anyone,

Not even my dad,

For it would freak dad out.

 

It was eight years ago,

So much has changed.

As usual was I required,

To redo my ICT project,

Access this time, not Excel.

 

At least Excel,

Was I familiar with,

Access was to me,

So completely new,

Small wonder then,

That I fell out with mom over it.

 

On one occasion,

With words and emotions,

Spiralling on both sides,

In a moment of anger,

When mom's back to me was turned,

Did I pick up an object.

 

I don't like recalling this,

At this moment in time,

When much has mended,

Is this memory uncomfortable.

 

I definitely had it in my hand,

I cannot now recall,

If I did raise it or no,

Yet sufficient to say,

I placed it back down,

And, shocked at this crisis point,

I made sure,

It never ever occured again.

 

These things, they are wrong,

Yet they are very human,

No-one understands that better than I.

The End

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