Little Cherub
By Joe Boston and El Villain
"I'm sorry sir, but your son isn't going to make it,
the cancer in his lungs has overcome other places."
First time i held you was life changing, my heart beat at a rapid pace,
see your silhouette in the clouds of a torrential downpour and wipe away those first tears from your face.
I paced back and forth waiting for my bundle of joy, moments later screamed its a Boy!
At night i sleep alone in your room as you beg me to play with your favorite toy.
Completely destroyed, only emotion i can describe, still wait for you at the bottom of every park slide,
it tears me in two, no more peekaboo or opened kitchen cabinets for your little self to hide.
I'm going to guide you through life, show you the difference of right and wrong,
the roads along are risky but we can sing ABCs or the itsy bitsy spider song.
People in reality tell me you're gone... i'm stubborn i don't want to hear,
you were never there in that incubator struggling for your last breath of air.
I give my sincere apologies, maybe i wasn't there to play a father role,
I promise i'm going to show up to your game and watch you score that first goal.
Don't worry my poor little soul, daddy will turn on some Paw Patrol,
I know you're ecstatic because tomorrow i'm gonna show you how to use your new fishing pole.
A hole is left inside me... my son did you vanish?
Before you go let me fix you your favorite; a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
I don't understand this, i see you when you're awake and when your eyes are closed,
Guess now you're gone i suppose, those memories of you being my baby i'll visit heaven to show you those.
I can still hear him laugh and I can still hear him cry,
first I lost my wife and now my son disappears into the light."
I wake up seven days a week, lately it seems like I'm just afraid and weak,
lost my son and became a freak, tainted meat for the wolves to maybe eat.
I'm crazy, see, I keep having these amazing dreams that my son still breathes,
but without these pills I need, he'd just be a memory filled with guilt and grief.
Why didn't God kill me, give him to a family that was wealthy and cared,
healthy and fair, instead I'm all alone in a home that's overwhelming and bare.
I keep whelping, scared, I can see him running down the hall,
bound to fall, bouncing that brown ball loudly, the sound stalled.
"It's okay daddy, I'm here now, it wasn't your fault,"
His words jault, this can't be real but my hurt halts.
He vanishes but I can still hear his laughter, God is a bastard,
my heart is a disaster but my brain is the one rereading chapters.
"Daddy, let's play in my room, please -- just a game or two?"
My pain, it blooms, as I'm tempted to make a noose...
Could I break so soon even though my son's whispers lace my shoes?
If I could embrace the truth, then the doctors wouldn't restrain me too.
"Unfortunately, this patient has lost every sense of reality,
creating a world with his family from a glimpse of fallacy."