My Earliest Memory

I'm lying on a changing table,
surrounded by a few people. 
My mom maintains me,
affraid that I can fall down. 
I'm crying, I'm screaming,
I wanna tell something. 
But they don't understand me, 
they don't even listen to me.
I hear my aunt's voice, she suggests
that I have a stomachache 
I hear my dad's voice, he 
suggests to put an enema.
(In future, it becomes his favorite joke,
when he tried to scary me)
My dad hate me crying, so
he needs actions, not words. 

But I don't feel any pain,
I'm just trying to tell them. 
To tell the truth, to tell them thing,
the sence of life, all secrets of Universe.
To tell what was before and what
would be after. They knew it. 
They forgot when got older. 
But weird adults don't understand me,
even though I've repeted my message thousand of times.
No wonder. I'm only two weeks old.
And I'm crying, coz I know I'll fail,
I'll fail my mission, they'll never remember.
And I'm screaming, coz I know 
that when I grow up, I'll forget everything too. 
I feel sorry, I feel frustrated,
but it's an vicious circle..

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  1. #1 by Sean on May 29, 2011 - 3:04 pm

    Great idea for a poem. I love the choice of speaker and the frustration they must feel repeating their message “a thousand times” – crying right? Great image.

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