tell me all your good intentions
tell me how much you care
about the one you say you love,
even though you’re never there.
tell me a thousand stories,
tell me tales of how you try,
just keep your promise next time.
i hate to see him cry.
perhaps you think it’s easy
you’re not the one who deals
with the aftermath of broken dreams,
the results of how he feels.
lie to yourself if you want to
it probably keeps you sane
but stop lying to the one who needs you
just to take away your pain
don’t tell him all your good intentions
just show him that you care
show up when you say you’re going to
that’s exactly when he needs you there
Danny is someone who has stuck in my head and comes to mind often. He was severely mentally disabled and communicated only through a picture board, and emotive grunts. But he knew his mother’s voice and understood what day she was supposed to come visit. The problem was, she rarely did. Each time she didn’t he would go into a rage and tear apart the ward. Once he had calmed down, he’d would come to me with his picture board, point to his mother and point to the image for “sad” and break down in tears. This was written after one of those incidents. I can still see his face pained face, as if it happened yesterday.