The same woman that brought me into this world,
Is the same person that is disgusted by humanity.
She does not see the world in colors only the absences of it,
"They're so judgmental"
"All a bunch of hypocrites, talk major shit while standing in their own"
"Close the door! Your letting their darkness in"
My mother, hates people.
Hates how her childhood was corrupted by them
Her innocence stolen
Her happiness lost
Within all of them.
'Each face hides something ugly
Including the prettiest of ones'
I remember her saying one night,
The night I feared what she might say the most
"But what about me?"
I asked tucked in with my favorite stuff animals
While listening carefully to her warnings of the outside
"You are different, you are the only good I see, the only light in this world"
But mother,
Aren't you being the one hypocritical now?
The one blinded ?
...
My mother has two more children after me,
Repeating the same cautions as lullabies
And as we grow
I notice something change within her
Something besides her growing hatred for humans
I notice
That she refuses to look at her reflection
Instead sits down to stare at us
And through her eyes I see something else other than her brokenness
I see her fears and her worries.
I see the worry for my little sister,
See that my mother thinks she is to curious for this world
That it in some way it will back fire
That curiosity will finally kill the cat...
I see the worries for my brother,
See that she is afraid that his kindness will soon turn into cruelty
Once he realizes that the children aren't in fact tired, they just don't want to play with him...
And finally i see the fears for me,
that I, the oldest, am too cold,
too secretive,
too much like them.
That. I. am.
the replica of her hate
And she is fearful of me
She can see past my facade
To reveal that I too have ugliness within
And it is this
That makes my mother hate herself
She has raised what she despises
Yet
Unknowingly I am her cure
And through her buried love for me i will finally heal her bandaged wounds.
YOU ARE READING
She Is Misanthropy
Poetry"Misanthropy is the general hatred, distrust or contempt of the human species or human nature Anyone who practices this is a misanthrope or misanthropist" But She does not practice this She lives with it.