Mourning Skies

A Simple Message

We were not made perfect

Because perfection is what you make it out to be

There is no fixated definition

Nor a system of letters that could ever

Fathom the perfection

Of looking at you through bloodshot eyes

Having known you saw me cry

And seeing love

Instead of pity.

There is no amount of letters

That could describe the look on your face

When you were relieved to find me

Still breathing

Because the narrow gaze 

Picking at me like I was a bloated corpse

May have made my skin crawl

May have made bile rise in my throat

May have made me want to slice my way

Out of this outer skin

He hated so much

That look was nothing

That look was nothing compared

To the pride that swelled inside of you

For your child who finally wrote a happy poem

For your child who had finally found a reason

To believe that this world isn't so bad

Because your child was me

And It may have been hard to see

But we found so many similarities 

That were not bound by blood

My mother, my dear,

You are not the image of what those men

Tried to make of you

You are not the childhood that had to be repaired

You are not the face of abuse and neglect

You are the face of a warrior

Who bore four children into this world

Covered in your own blood

And you somehow found a way

To bare every second of your existence

To pass on to me a simple message:

That we are not weak,

We are just rebuilding