She promised to protect her little girl.
She made sure she was always happy.
She gave her everything she could.
She hid the pain surrounding her little girl.
She sacrificed herself to let her baby live.
She died without saying goodbye.
Her baby girl stood alone, staring down a hole in the ground with a wooden box holding her mother trapped.
"She can't breathe."
"You need to give her oxygen."
The baby cried.
The baby tried her best to live, to move on.
It was like steering a car during traffic hour with your eyes blinded and your ears plugged with no real place to go.
Her baby cried each night wishing her mother could be there to wipe away all her tears.
Baby, baby tried, baby tried to die.
Her mother returned her back.
She told her not to look for her.
Baby cried, again, and again, and then once more.
Baby found a solution.
Cigarettes, beers, and cocktails.
Needles up her veins.
Powder up her nose.
Pills swallowed down her throat.
Medicine dissolving in her mouth.
Everything she could find.
Anything her small hands could reach and grab.
Baby met her mother again.
"I'm disappointed." She said.
Baby sniffed her tears and shuffled back to life again.
Nothing is making her come back. Nothing is making her forget.
Numbing the feelings dragging her on only made things worse in the long run.
Little girl tried to live.
She tried her best not to give up.
She did what she could.
Her best wasn't enough.
Her mother cried.
Mother shouted at them, watching her seize on the floor.
Their relaxed face said it all.
They couldn't care less.
Her daughter returned to her in a black bag with no oxygen.
Mother cried.
She died again.
She couldn't save her baby girl this time.
They both needed oxygen, but without one another, they couldn't fathom the thought of breathing.
Oxygen killed them and reunited them back together for the last time.
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Poem about deep grief and when using the wrong mechanisms to cope with the loss instead of working through it. Not based on real people or events. Just exploring grief and different ways people deal with it.
Hopefully, it's not too sad or depressing. Have a great day or night!
YOU ARE READING
Life Beneath The Words At Play
PoesíaMy poetry is only to fill blank pages. You decide how to color it in. That meaning, you can interpret the poems the way you want. I only put the words together, and you decide the rest :) Yet another poem dump for my unorganized mess that is my poe...
