Imaginary Friend Poem by S. I. Rednow

Since writing is so therapeutic to me
There's plenty to get off my chest
Unless I make sense of this thing that I see
It may put my writing to rest

How many parents are ignoring a child
Won't set aside time for an heir
So why the surprise when the children go wild
If nobody shows that they care

It does little good bringing paper to pen
If writer and reader are one
While you say that you'll play you never say when
It's always 'just wait ‘til I'm done'

Excuse is the compass pointing day to night
For a family losing its way
I said without change I would no longer write
But whoever means what they say