THE EYES OF THE PAST

There’s something about the look in a child’s eyes that makes me look away;
I can see, I already know where one is coming from, through that certain look I have already picked up on what the little one is too frightened to say.
Too afraid to mention the things that you cannot understand, looking around for someone to trust, waiting on guidance, someone who might give a damn.
Needing the embrace of loving arms to comfort you, letting you know that all will end alright.
Dying for someone to care, wipe your tears, listen to your prayers of a night.
There aren’t many things in this world that can stir me up to the point, but there’s something about that look in a child’s eyes that can break me down to tears,
The look of confusion, the look of hope the look of so much fear.
These children I know, I already know that they have been forced to see more then beyond their innocent years, and if this could make just one angel in heaven cry, then I would wipe away its tears.
There’s something about that look in a child’s eyes that will  allow me to reflect, relive, rewind and recollect the pieces of my life so shattered but it has built me up to who I am today
Who I was
Who I am
And who I will be years away.
I know that look of desperation, I can spot it anywhere.
And here I am right now; these children will become me one day;
When they leave the flock, when they stray away.
There is a wall that blocks those innocent eyes now, like the wall that blocks my soul.
But once that wall is looked beyond, they’ll see beyond their toys and realize before they even see the sun rise that the older you get, the more you learn, the less you’re in control.
These children will be leaving their toys far behind as they will tumble down the road of broken dreams.
They will substitute these pleasurable things with something more
They will be stumbling into a trap someplace else, being stuck in the days f wondering if tomorrow will ever come.
Counting on the things in life that may never come to be,
Substituting honest love with the prosthetics of codependency.
There is something about that look in a child’s eyes that will make me look away, it breaks my heart, it kills me to know that path that they will be following one day.
For the eyes of children are the mirror of who we used to be.