The Battle

Tiny finger nails tear his cheek
rebel against sleep
I trek over toys
rock him in my arms
he stabs my neck with fingertips
my ears with shrieks
I coo his name
rise in waves
he scowls at me
breaks my heart
my will remains
wades through tempests
waits hour-like minutes…
arms crash onto my bosom,
roar wanes into a whimper,
eyelids set, and finally,
silence.

Critique

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