The plans for her
return
always cause the
greatest dis-ease
to the system.

Mother…a wound
that only ever
scabs over,
but never truly
heals.

She comes from
many miles away;
a casually dressed
monster
with self-proclaimed
‘good intentions’,
like the road to Hell.

My hell…on Earth.
Have I yet paid
my dues?
Have I done enough
penance…ever?

The link to
maintaining my
sanity;
the calming balm
to my distressed
heart…is him.

My lifeline,
the reason I can
continue to smile
and laugh, uninterrupted,
despite the oozing
wound,
invisible to the
naked eye,
appearing to others,
that don’t know
the history,
as simply…
attitude.

The wound never
truly heals;
there is no
‘closure’.
I’ve given up on
that particular idea…
wish…goal.

Despite the ever
festering
inflicted/afflicted
hurt;
my baggage,
which seldom gets
lighter,
I find his comforting
hand, which reaches
for my own,
leading me away,
sometimes even pulling me,
for my own good,
into the light,
giving respite to
the wearied psyche
that dwells in my head.

He shines the brightest
of Suns
upon my often
frigid, numbed soul,
melting away
the sickness,
the brain-washing,
the manipulation
of eons gone by.

Always leaving behind
Shadows
where their
very breath
used to be.

He is the safe haven,
the cocoon
which allows my
safe metamorphosis,
until I can slowly
break out of my shell,
stretching out
multi-colored wings
and finally,
flying,
flying,
flying Free.


-by Mercurychyld
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