But I Want A Puppy, Momma

The childish thirst and innocence never fully goes away... we want what we can't have and refuse to settle for the finality of an unfulfilled desire. No means no. When we reach the point of understanding, in a sense we die... out of gas, the drive is gone, the flame extinguished. Perhaps it isn't childish innocence, maybe we were just more alive and determined. Some, they take their puppies home and love them, nurture them and grow with them as equals. Others, they take their puppies home and squeeze them with excitement until the puppy stops twitching and goes limp. A few will go home with people that cast them into a cage and break their spirit... leaving them to lay in their own shit and filth as the skin sags from the lifeless body. Finally, the remaining puppies become an outlet of frustration... beaten, just as the world had beaten their masters. They live low to the ground, whimpering in fear and eyes glazed with tears... but they still come to their master to be beaten yet again. So I ask myself, am I the wanting child still reaching for my puppy? Or am I the child that took one home... if so, how did I raise them? All of those puppies had one thing in common... they were at one time desired and accepted. No, I am not the child filled with desire nor the man filled with accomplishment for my deeds. I am the puppy... crawling low with glassed eyes... waiting.