My heart never stops
breaking, caving into
itself.
I’m often so surprised
to have any pieces left.
I never wanted to
be like “her”; like my
mother, yet here I sit,
thinking, feeling,
full of guilt.
A guilt that never wanes
or ever could.
I read many books,
many genres.
Some truly make
me face what my heart
knows too well;
this deep sense of guilt.
As I read of characters;
multifaceted, complex men
who step up and love
and raise their sons
and daughters,
I am reminded,
time and again,
that MY sons do not,
or ever will have,
that kind of blessing.
No great male example
to learn from,
to spend time with,
to show them how to
become good Godly men.
Those moments cause me
to question and doubt
myself, as a mother.
I never wanted to be
like “her”; my mother,
with her revolving door
of ****** men
for one reason or another,
yet here I sit,
thinking, feeling,
reminded of how I too
have failed.
The sins of the parents
shall be visited upon
the children…
for that I’m so
very, very sorry
My sons.
The hot tears fall
and the heart disintegrates,
and the anger-sadness grows…
anger mainly at myself.
MY DECISIONS have
brought us all to
where we are today.
Culpability overload.
I wonder, does God
blame me?
Will my sons?
Not that I would ever
blame either if they do.
If I could go back,
if I could begin again,
what would I change?
This is the question
as the familiar pangs
of guilt grow like weeds,
and never subside.
To my sons,
for all of my mistakes
and wrong decisions,
both before and after
your births,
decisions that leave
imprints on your
lives as well…
I am Forever sorry.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 12 Oct. 15
Monday
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
My heart never stops
breaking, caving into
itself.
I’m often so surprised
to have any pieces left.
I never wanted to
be like “her”; like my
mother, yet here I sit,
thinking, feeling,
full of guilt.
A guilt that never wanes
or ever could.
I read many books,
many genres.
Some truly make
me face what my heart
knows too well;
this deep sense of guilt.
As I read of characters;
multifaceted, complex men
who step up and love
and raise their sons
and daughters,
I am reminded,
time and again,
that MY sons do not,
or ever will have,
that kind of blessing.
No great male example
to learn from,
to spend time with,
to show them how to
become good Godly men.
Those moments cause me
to question and doubt
myself, as a mother.
I never wanted to be
like “her”; my mother,
with her revolving door
of ****** men
for one reason or another,
yet here I sit,
thinking, feeling,
reminded of how I too
have failed.
The sins of the parents
shall be visited upon
the children…
for that I’m so
very, very sorry
My sons.
The hot tears fall
and the heart disintegrates,
and the anger-sadness grows…
anger mainly at myself.
MY DECISIONS have
brought us all to
where we are today.
Culpability overload.
I wonder, does God
blame me?
Will my sons?
Not that I would ever
blame either if they do.
If I could go back,
if I could begin again,
what would I change?
This is the question
as the familiar pangs
of guilt grow like weeds,
and never subside.
To my sons,
for all of my mistakes
and wrong decisions,
both before and after
your births,
decisions that leave
imprints on your
lives as well…
I am Forever sorry.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 12 Oct. 15
Monday
I notice what my sons missed out on, as I did; the true love and devotion of a good father, and it's a huge burden that does now and will always haunt and torment me. : (
