The second poem in my series of poems. If you didn’t see the first one, He’s Fine, Click here to read.

I hope the poem below highlights the frustration my son feels.

I’m Bored!

I’m bored he said more and more,
At every opportunity he said galore.
Morning, noon and night,
He always seemed wound up so tight.
Even during his favourite game,
He will shout I’m bored without any shame.

“I’m bored,”
He doesn’t want to be ignored.

I’m bored he says but what’s the truth,
I had my suspicions but not the proof.
A mind that races, a body that fidgets,
And constantly crossing and uncrossing his digits.
Seeking something, though he’s not sure what,
Completely restless he never stays put.

“I’m bored,”
He was wound up like a cord.

I’m bored he cries, and I try my best,
To calm his mind and to give him rest.
Then top trumps,  and Uno, and books we read,
But nothing we do quiets the storm in his head.
I see the struggle, though words are few,
And wish I knew the world from his view.

“I’m bored,”
I could see his rage was getting stored.

I’m bored he screams, when will this stop,
Certainly not until we both drop.
On and on and on we go,
As the hours drag by ever so slow.
My patience is fading, his frustration explodes,
Like a bomb going off it’s time to unload.

“I’m bored,”
He roared and roared and roared.