"
I can't speak or breathe,
My eyes set on him,
My treasured mice,
Shivering,
Nestled in fear,
An audience and a witness,
To his mother being dissected by her lover,
Transplanting every resentment from his tumor,
A cancer sprouted from disputes,
From his eyes, an eyesore,
A child, his reflection,
From his mouth, reprimanding the law and god,
to question our connection.
A family, his home, their home,
From his arms,
to embrace a married woman,
The reward for patience,
Waiting for his lover's death,
Enduring the bills and ridicule,
The sacrifice he's willing to make for her and not for us,
A trust given, manipulation he said,
From his legs,
To run past beyond,
No more hesitation,
Just run, run,
Forget every milestone, every bump,
Trample everyone who wronged you,
Because you are always right,
Said by god himself.
As the father yelled his preach his love and dedication, devotion, and sacrifice,
Bashing his bible against the sinner on her deathbed,
Unable to speak, unable to argue,
Unlike before when she stood tall,
Where she screams at us to be better,
Yelling for us to grow,
Peeling her flesh for us to improve,
Draining every drop of blood and sweat to give a future,
A smile that she and I shared,
The mask she wears and the gift I bear.
I'm sorry.
I can't speak for you,
Fight for you,
Yet you're always here for us,
Unlike us, some of us,
But not I and him,
One who hid,
One who stabbed.
I'm sorry.
I pushed you away,
I wanted to be alone,
Not like this,
What I want is for you to be happy,
But like me, you pushed away that too,
I can't gift you the world,
Yet I can gift you a petal,
For it is what I can do,
Yet you pushed away that too,
That's what I hate about you mom,
You tried to pluck the feathered heart of your son,
So I can soar,
You drilled my head of your harbinating child,
So I can be aware,
You place yourself as a wager for our future,
Yet your son wagers every doubt for your present,
In the end,
You won most,
But who's the cost?
While I won your coffin.
To you mother, I'm an angel,
So when the devil took me on a stroll,
Advertising for salvation,
You breathed your final wager.
Even if my father glee in victory,
The happiest he's ever been since your first date and marriage,
Be it peace or ease,
You placed your precious bets into me, us...
And especially your lover,
Knowing it'll be alright.
"
-Klausyuer: The ****** Poet
Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 8:25 AM UTC
"
I can't speak or breathe,
My eyes set on him,
My treasured mice,
Shivering,
Nestled in fear,
An audience and a witness,
To his mother being dissected by her lover,
Transplanting every resentment from his tumor,
A cancer sprouted from disputes,
From his eyes, an eyesore,
A child, his reflection,
From his mouth, reprimanding the law and god,
to question our connection.
A family, his home, their home,
From his arms,
to embrace a married woman,
The reward for patience,
Waiting for his lover's death,
Enduring the bills and ridicule,
The sacrifice he's willing to make for her and not for us,
A trust given, manipulation he said,
From his legs,
To run past beyond,
No more hesitation,
Just run, run,
Forget every milestone, every bump,
Trample everyone who wronged you,
Because you are always right,
Said by god himself.
As the father yelled his preach his love and dedication, devotion, and sacrifice,
Bashing his bible against the sinner on her deathbed,
Unable to speak, unable to argue,
Unlike before when she stood tall,
Where she screams at us to be better,
Yelling for us to grow,
Peeling her flesh for us to improve,
Draining every drop of blood and sweat to give a future,
A smile that she and I shared,
The mask she wears and the gift I bear.
I'm sorry.
I can't speak for you,
Fight for you,
Yet you're always here for us,
Unlike us, some of us,
But not I and him,
One who hid,
One who stabbed.
I'm sorry.
I pushed you away,
I wanted to be alone,
Not like this,
What I want is for you to be happy,
But like me, you pushed away that too,
I can't gift you the world,
Yet I can gift you a petal,
For it is what I can do,
Yet you pushed away that too,
That's what I hate about you mom,
You tried to pluck the feathered heart of your son,
So I can soar,
You drilled my head of your harbinating child,
So I can be aware,
You place yourself as a wager for our future,
Yet your son wagers every doubt for your present,
In the end,
You won most,
But who's the cost?
While I won your coffin.
To you mother, I'm an angel,
So when the devil took me on a stroll,
Advertising for salvation,
You breathed your final wager.
Even if my father glee in victory,
The happiest he's ever been since your first date and marriage,
Be it peace or ease,
You placed your precious bets into me, us...
And especially your lover,
Knowing it'll be alright.
"
-Klausyuer: The ****** Poet
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