mother and father,
how selfish you are, now,
to finally turn and look my way

and stare at my eyes but not the
scars and scabs on my palms and feet
forged from your negligence

mother and father,
how pitiful was i, then,
to plead to coldly turned backs

as i crawled and stumbled through
sharp shards of ice, forced to learn how
to how to stand on my own

mother and father,
were my outstretched hands
too repulsive to stomach?

were my tears too tiring?

if my arms had gone limp
and my eyes dry, earlier

would i have been worthy to be your child?

07.17.24