Damaged Goods

I watched him physically and mentally deflate.
I had uttered words,
Not harsh or cruel but critical enough to overfill,
His heavy bowl of hurt.

He receded into himself like a rose,
Deprived of sunshine - closing up.
Drooping from want of sustenance- lacking tenderness.

I watched the inner battle,
With his mental demons,
'Anxiety',' Fear', 'Hopelessness.'
Too strong and demanding,
Too great a foe to be vanquished,
By one so young.

He put up a valiant fight.
I saw glimpses of his resolve,
To fight down those tears.
They managed only to glaze,
His large round childish eyes.

So unfair,
That a sweet babe must shoulder the weight,
Of a bowl so full.
I feel my heart strings straining at the terrible realisation,
That I added to his burden.