I have held your mother while she cried on her floor. The one she cleans, that you walk on, without thinking once more. I have held your mother while her heart melted into a puddle with her tears. I have been there for your mother while we watched you hurt us through the years. Who are we without the pain you make us feel. A mother's worst nightmare, but it's all too real. Who do we fear if not ourselves? The monsters outside of the stories one tells. They are real but not ugly, they can be sweet but they are scary, they are people, a hate they carry. Threatening you with just their eyes. They shape shift for others and form another disguise. I have lived in this play and watched this movie. It's a horror to witness but it's all the more moving. So realistic, almost like i'm watching myself. I watch those monsters eat me from the inside out. I have held your mother like she is stuck in a downpour. Your mother deserves a million good dreams and much more.
YOU ARE READING
Pitiful
Poetry"Never trust a scream, it lies with its fear, it's scared of the truth, it's scared for you to hear." A collection of poems made about me and to be read by you. Please enjoy. ⚠️Content warning⚠️: May contain triggering content.
