"Vulnerability is a challenge for people."
They say.

But even guards have weaknesses
see my problem is
I have doors but they do not have locks
and I expect whoever is behind the door to
knock
but they do not.
          My mother created this flimsy door
but, I tend to appreciate it
because it is the one of the 3 gifts she has given me,
that hasn't disappeared or have been taken away.
First, gift my mother ever gave me was a hand wrapped box called life
and the second is a weight I carry with me
that can not be tolerated
so I put it into words like these
just to feel lighter
but gravity always brings you down right?

My mother was not a teacher
but a symbol of strength
and she only taught me how to ball my fist
and close my legs
and to never trust a man.

But mother I misinterpreted your lesson
I ball my fist and throw my pain against anyone who triggers it.
I'm too scared to even open my heart my legs are glued shut
and instead of never trusting a man
mother I pour trust into people
mother I am a fountain of faith
and I even give people complimentary cups
with their fountain visits.

Mother I only call you by that title in my poems
But when speaking about you to others
I use the name your mother chose for you
because that's who I knew you as
never once did I know you as my mother
even the times I thought I did
And while my childhood is nothing but childhood I can remember.
The times you were around I recall it so vividly.
But do you recall the poison you consumed when I was just womb deep.
Did you not think about my cries

I am your creation
You brought me here
for 9 months mama you molded your pain
so perfectly without any imperfections
within the agony
And now your pain walks and resents you but while your pain develops forward.
She'll take 10 steps backwards and look to see if you were able to see how far she's come.