Children - Again a Trap

 

Children 

My children are like my own arms,
Parts of my body, fragments of my mind.
When something hurts them,
It pierces me—from the inside out.

I have expectations of myself.
I extend them to my children.
"Don’t expect," they say—
But my mind doesn’t listen.

They don’t follow my expectations—
Why should they?
They are their own people.
With their own wants, needs, lives.
Their paths don’t mirror mine.

Yet every deviation from my hopes
Drains me—
Like life being pulled out by unseen hands.

Arguments cut deeper than words.
Disagreements shake my foundation.
Sometimes, I just want to run away.
Not out of anger—out of exhaustion.

I don’t want them clinging to me.
I don’t want to cling to them.
Let them live.
Let me breathe.
Let us both be free—separately.

But I only find peace
When I know they’re doing well.
If they’re not…
My mind spirals again.
Tangled in worry, guilt, helplessness.

Children—they’re love and burden.
A gift. A trap.
I can’t bear to see them unhappy.
But happiness isn’t guaranteed.
And so, the trap tightens.

I suffer with them.
I suffer for them.
I suffer by being near.
I suffer by being far.
This is the truth I carry.
The cost of love.

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