That's MeMature

Motherhood

I have racked my tired brain in trying to make sense of such a heinous situation - to no avail...

I have screamed and yelled and used any words that I know, yet I fail.

There is no description for the emptiness that’s left where we used to be –

Only meaningless comparisons to meaningless things, that’s Me.

 

I have traced my bad decisions back to careless ignitions –

back to when the future was still new;

I have shivered at my recollections of life before, including, and after You…

The carnival funhouse, the promising dawn, and then – pitch darkness of a lie that’s fostered truth.

 

What use is a mother who can’t be your Mom…?

I can’t blame you for losing any purpose to hold on –

so much space and time, so many things gone so wrong…

you’ve had to be alone out there; you’ve been forced to be strong.

 

 

I can see how you feel abandoned – believe me;

That thought never leaves my heart for a beat I think it endlessly…

I’ve let you down and can’t pick you up again;

Single-handedly destroyed our’ lives – that’s Me.

 

If I could sit down on top of a slow-ticking bomb –

And wait for it to explode dreadfully against the unknown –

in exchange for all of your constant pain and misery;

I want you to know: there’s no doubt that I’d go,

to gladly  be blown up to smithereens.

 

What use is this apology – if I can’t make things “right”?

-       About as good as a dead man in the ring for a fight…

There’s nothing left, no sense of what was or what will be –

Empty and embittered, angry at my life

Unable to hold my own against the pain – that’s Me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The End

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