My mother, just the mother. Not only a mother, but just my mother and me. My only confidant. My only support. My only defender and play pretender. The only bread winner, my only cook for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Only my mother and me. My mother so much more than a mother. A teacher, my lecturing preacher. A caring and compassionate one of a kind go getter and my best friend until the end. Only my mother and me.
We'll wash our hearts with coffee until they become the color of the swirling liquid earth.
They'll breathe in the aroma and anoint themselves with the curls of richness Dancing an escape from the brim of the mugs.
We'll pray to the weathered hands that harvested the beans that even in the biting briskness and cowardly violence of this world We may become warm and hearty and nurturing like that with which we fill our cups.
You were supposed to nurture me Make sure I was well taken care of In ever aspect of my life Yes my belly was full And I was kept warm But with each passing day Inside me grew a storm A child who had to raise herself On her own They was no nurture only nature Force to adapt in order to survive And all I knew is I was dead inside And new issues rose My life a lie And with that knowledge I spend most time high So I may forget how much I wanna die And know I wonder why I even fight to stay alive
Youngest of three just trying to act like I'm fine