Must I Hide, Mother?
Must I really hide who I am, mother?
I have hidden myself long enough to know,
that,
we are all trapped in the revolving cycles of cliché-
someone is born,
someone grows up,
someone gets wounded, scarred and maimed in life's amphitheater,
we are all adorned gladiators,
someone falls in love,
someone gets their heart broken,
someone gets married, then gets divorced,
someone has children,
someone gets sick,
someone fails, someone loses,
someone wins to lose, someone loses to win,
someone is always trading the currency of life for pleasure,
for vice,
for virtue....
Really, mother, all mystery is lost,
and we relive lives already lived,
feel things already felt..
There is no shame mother,
if they laugh at my wounds,
if they mock at my sorrow,
I feel no pain at the rocks they throw,
but I understand,
you are my shield,
and every blow hurts you the most-
but let it be,
do not shield me now,
I do not mind jeers or mockery or slander.
Let it be,
darling mother.
for we are all trapped in the revolving cycles of cliché.
