Sweet, Sweet Child

There is an absurd intuition forming from within, screaming louder and louder with the seconds that pass. You glance up at me with innocent eyes, begging and pleading with me to save you at last, yet I can't hear your desperate cry beyond the doses of adrenaline that temporarily free me. I only hear the echoes that are lost in translation, deafening me with the sounds of chaos. You are imprisoned within a fragment of my mind which seeks to enslave you, but you tug at the remainder of my free will, begging me to come to your rescue. 

You are my child and I jump in fright at the sound of your cry, yet I consciously neglect you until you beg and plead with tearful eyes once more, screaming, and shouting until the disrupted echoes make their way to me, outbeaten by euphoria. How do you manage to love me when I willingly damage your radiant soul? 

I take the tiny palm of your hand into mine, and watch your eyes fill with curiosity; with hope that I take your side today as I pick you up and whisper that nothing will come between us. But as I place you on my lap and brush a fingertip across your cheek, I glare at your helpless eyes, equally vulnerable; equally perplexed. You translate my gestures as a sign of indifference, but indifference outwardly fails to describe it - I'm trying so hard to find the right words, but they're clouded by delusion and the words that you eagerly await are not heard. 

I watch you walk into the layers of fog that invisibly suffocate you. There is nothing I will not do to free you. You are everything to me and I have not forgotten your radiant soul that acts as my source of light.