Childhood Years.
11th, that glorious day, my mums glorious first born,
Many attempts at motherhood before me, none had survived.
Born at 12.03pm, between dusk and dawn...
She understood why, she could not help - but cry.
Her happiness of this day, almost distant to remember...
But as Aprils child, I was the furthest from blank memoried.
My father working construction, early year'd - late december,
I would grow young, to soon be a man, my dad believed.
From the safety of parents guidance, i took off to my minds clasp..
Precieved that i would take before me - and turn it into gold,
I decided it was time to make a life out of what i could grasp.
My days of winter - optimistic as they were; i had no time for cold.
'Structing in sandpits, and building in bushes..
Others saw my father in me - I saw only myself.
As the April child i had a birds freedom - happy song like thrushes,
The magic of the universe, was what kept my imagination in wealth.
Teenage Years.
Dangerous times these years were, new education - new friends..
New goals of completion, Imagination - it was the end.
I had feelings i never felt before, i got selfish with emotions.
Illustrating my motions - through these new eyes of a curious notion..
Curious to know soon, what this unknown was ahead of me,
It was strange - yet intriguing - this difference from my childhood memory..
April came and went, Every April i grew a year,
Every April fed the man inside me, every April - i still persevered..
And light turned to dark - Yet april held my head above shadows,
How much longer i needed to hold on - it seems only my dad knows..
For he was still AWOL from me, and would work all around the year..
Yes, he did keep the taxman away, but he could not protect me from my tears.
FUCK fears, teenage years did get the best of me.
Vandalism is a CULT, and YES it got the FUCKING rest of me...
So my design for life - waiting for my fathers return..
Was in jeapordy.. He soon needed to see the man i have turned.
Young Adult Years.
Now, so sudden and so brisk, so sullen without mist..
So clear without cloud - yet so dark without shroud..
My years as the man of the house began to take its toll..
I could not bear it, my brother, Child of July, began to make my walls fold..
This war upon me, demanding i take my relationships further..
Take them further........ take all of them further.....
But with April maturing me so fast, this day and age at 15..
Taking friends as far as i went, they dropped from the play, this act - this scene..
I had to do something about it - i was left alone and vulnerable,
Looked to the horizon, my dad was still unsuccumb-able..
My mother in the safe world i guarded her in,
I could not give in, she was not designed to help me win..
I was the man for my new-found love, Jess; she helped create my person,
Meaning so much to me, i felt as though she had taken away - (i never was) - my shy person..
Even with this I mistreated my post, got involved in gangs when i shouldnt have done..
My April Luck must have created miracles - i grew away from this fast; i won.
And time was running out for the person i had tried so hard to be,
The father figure was still skiving his eldest sons growth,
Still missing the April Child out of which he had absently carved me..
And so i look forward, look to my future and what i shall create,
Suddenly this yellow sun returns to my line of sight, and illuminates my fate,
With this girl at my side, and a vision of what i aspire for: Better than second,
My father: imagination, returns home, the April Childs greatest weapon.
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