Waiting to prick and stab at what you say,
Her voice is full of thwarting thorns.
She sinks her bitter claws into your skin
Slashing your hopes and dreams.
"Mom, please!"
You beg, creating a mumbling mess of mucus.
She snaps her gaze at you;
Her hard stare stretching all the way to London.
The whizzing of the blender stops;
Background noise unattainable now.
You breathe a cry of defeat,
A briar woven tightly around you.
