You will hate this poem.
Embarrassment will eat your flesh
while your eyes take in one tired man’s thoughts.
Your mind will wish the time it took
reading this was spent holding your son,
giving him the space to be scared
and now that home is your arms.
You will hate this poem.
If it wasn’t for this poem
you could have messaged your friends back
and quietly saved the world.

© Carl Burkitt 2023