The Child and His Mother
Have a strange relationship
She does not treat the child
The same way his father does
She is much kinder
Has a softer approach to matters
But she also defends the father
Tells the child
"He's had a rough day at work,
And his knee is in pain"
As if it is enough to make right
The wrongs the father has made
On a certain day
After hearing the father
Yelling at the child
Over something about his clothes
The mother comes into the child's room
He's laying there
Crying into his pillow
Sobbing and choking on his own breathes
Not capable of letting up for even a moment
He tries to look up at the mother
In fear that it is the father
Ready to continue what transpired prior
But he is incapable of seeing the person in the door
But he knows it's the mother
He knows by the sound of her footsteps
He knows by the silhouette of her hair
He knows because she is not berating him with obscenities
Over something that was out of his control...
She asks him "What happened this time child?"
"Was it the bully?" she continues
Knowing the child would not be able to
To let out a full sentence without choking on spit
The child nods and lets out a few cries
Trying to explain the situation
But the tears inhibit him
From letting out what he wants to say
"Ith wath eh boo-ey a-hen"
he attempts to speak
The mother didn't even need
To translate what he said
For she knew it was the same as always
This bully she had never seen before
She tells him it'll be ok
She sees the clothes on the floor
The child's favorite sweater
In tatters and bits
Wonders how a lone bully
Could do this to someone
She says to him
"Don't worry, we'll buy you new clothes,
And I'll make sure that bully never comes again!"
A lie she tells the child
An attempt at comforting
"I'll buy you a new rock as well"
The child loves to collect rocks
Whenever they go out
He gets a new one
She knows the child prefers
To be left alone when sad
So after she said her piece
She closes the door
And the child continues to cry
Until eventually he falls asleep
Pillow as wet as a load of laundry
Plucked right out of a washing machine
The stars come
The wind blows
Colder than ice
The mirror in his room
Reflecting the moonlight on his bed
Landing
Right
On
His
Face.
