When I was young
my mother taught me
How to Make a Coward;
and every time
I study my reflection
I am reminded
of my mother's lesson
on How to Make a Coward
And I wonder
does anyone else know
how hard it is
to make a coward?
How hard it is to wait
amidst hell
so that the leaves dry bitterly
into experience?
How hard it is to water
in the cold and blind midnight
the never ending fields of fear?
But ultimately
how hard it is
to pluck out
the woven spiked roots
of humanity
just to find
depravation?
And then force it
to mix together
into mother's sensation?
Coward was dropped into my tea
and then was served for lunch
coward was stuck inside my throat
and left there to rust
Coward was there when I was happy
but it didn't hide when I was sad
and when I came at it, it always seemed
to act very fast
It left me alone
when I needed it the most
and ran off to hide
and it seemed impossible
to retrieve
without falling inside
You can search every country side
but you'll never be able to find
something so innocent and impure
burned and destined
like mother's cowards
because nothing
can be born so twisted
empty and fabricated
like mother's coward
And I would pass
all the precious lies
behind this recipe
to you
But I'm too much of a coward
to do so.
YOU ARE READING
Mabye if I Fall Asleep I Won't Breathe Right
PoetryRelying on possibility, slumber, and the unknown sweet demise of death. This book is a collection of poems that are unrelated but as a whole struggle to portray the meaning of the title. Through my distorted vision, a lot of things might seem disjoi...
