she bleeds, hard and dark, bitterwords and angry scowls, from the depths of her lazyboy chair.
age has stolen her laughter, wit and compassion.... pain is her worldy possesion, it blinds her to all else.
she used to laugh and smile and i miss that, so much, and i wish that, my boy would have those memories but we have become, the whipping boy, to her frailty, her scroogelike attitudes, her impatience to, be done with it all....
this is my sacrifice, my burden, willingly, lovingly, shared by my lover and child...
but, oh! somedays, it is like, carrying a bag, overfull, of sharded glass, that pierces my back and stabs at my heart.