Children push you to the far edge

Of the place where our coping strategies reside.

The take the food out of your mouth

And never give you a moment's peace.

They scrape all your patience reserves

From somewhere deep inside the cavern of your soul.

Children take

So much.

Maybe more than they give.

And we are supposed to say that we wouldn't change it.

But perhaps we would

On those days when you are dragging yourself

Through the life

That you carefully planned,

And worked so hard for.

It might not be a story of regret.

But sometimes,

Just sometimes,

It's a story of remorse

In the sense that now you bear

Responsibility for the whole world

Because its potential

Lives in your heart.