Impaled

About my son I placed for adoption. The grief never leaves. The guilt never resolves.

It ate me up
And left me dry.
Cross my fingers
And hope to die.

Pain is strange,
And grief is worse.
Time's a thief
For what it's worth.

The ache remains
The sadness flows.
I'd rather be stuck
With a prickly rose.

I feel no hope.
I feel no joy.
I miss you so
My little boy.