First stanza describes my first days with my son, and how they took him away at three weeks old, because I didn't have any help with transportation and lack of emotional support (I called an emergency line of a mental institution many times, at age 30, and DSS (now DCF) used my phone-calling problems and the hospitalizations I'd had ever since age 14 against me, plus having very little knowledge of child care. Second stanza describes how I've written to him via the DCF from 2006 - 2019, I learned in 2019 that he didn't want any further correspondence from me. I've been sitting in my apartment thinking about these things, plus not having my day program to attend because of the Corona virus, and not being able to work because of the virus. Writing helps.
Thank to Julia Bondarenko from Pixabay.

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