I tried to kiss all the boo boos never kissed before.
I tried to pick up clues on how to help.
I tried to love even when pushed away.
I said I'm sorry for the past being what it was.
For things I've never done.
So what does a mother do?

I'm sorry a million times.
No matter how sorry I am I can not fix it.
No matter how badly I want to.
I can't reverse the clock.
I can't change what happened.
If I could I would.
So what does a mother do?

I can't force talking.
Or expedite the healing process.
I can't read minds
Or always find the right words.
I can't help but feel helpless.
So what does a mother do?

In this moment I am simply human.
I can listen.
Imperfect but loving and hurting and praying.
So what does a mother do?

I am supposed to know what to do.
Mothers know best they say.
They never shared the rules with me.

A whisper inside says to do what I know how.
Love this child.
I do.
Always and forever.
I will.
I know what you’re going to order
Just like you know mine
My secret non vegan feast
Not so secret
Comfort food
You and I
Silly place
Our favorite mugs
Tea and honey
Sometimes coffee
Listening to your stories
Able to comment without fear of disappointing
You value my input
Even if it’s not the same as yours
You respect me as the mother I am
You tell me how lucky you are to have this relationship
It is me my dear that is the lucky one
A child should be able to talk to their parent
It is me that is grateful for the person you have become
I made a decision
not easy to be made
Though I know who you are
and what you gave to me
Everyone would suggest
to overthink this decision
But for me it is clear
my decision is based on your actions
You abandoned me
already a while ago
actually years ago
And now, I made a decision

Mother, you are dead to me.
you never treated me like your daughter
neither did you ever act like a mother
Waffles Jul 30
The reason i say no is because
you do not know what

harms can befall you
addictions can seize you
terrors can engulf you
and deception can trick you

when you do know what

harms can befall you
addictions can seize you
terrors can engulf you
and deception can trick you

I hope you can say no,
frankie Jul 10
How deep were we in?
Restrained by chains that burn our skin
Car headlights, a hush falls over
Shines through the window, time feels slower
I hope she knows that we care
He grabbed her, dragged her by her hair
Cry, scream, or maybe not
Could have done anything, but we couldn't make him stop
god is tugging at my sleeve. the weight added to the fabric adds an urgency to my steps. im sweating now, grappling with the burdensome presence of a creator. he whines and demands my attention. he cries when i cant pick him up off the ground. he asks for task after task of menial, worthless labor until i am face first on the dirt with exhaustion. my aura has grown squeamish with anticipation of his next tantrum.  i walk on hand sharpened eggshells i myself have placed as he ordered, i live in a fortress of solitude, shame, exasperation, and fear. i retract myself from enjoyment, fulfillment, and success at the empty promises he gives to entrap me further. since birth i have upheld this responsibility. babysat my guardians. protected them from their own mistakes. leaving feels like abandoning an infant to destroy itself from the inside out. living for myself invokes nausea and confusion. how can i function without approval from the hellbeast that gave me life only to use it for his own?  growth is the only freeing process by which i can loosen his grip on the fabric of my shirt. outgrow your creator, your fractorial parent, your burden you did not choose to undertake. slowly detach from his entrapment. slowly make your life worth living again.
hey homos im sad
How to find an absent parent:
Step one: mention it to family,
Listen to them tell you how fucked up that person is.
The third step is: believe them.

Four: you get through your childhood and into being a teenager,
Also classified as a troubled youth,
Because, come on, no one gets to eighteen having escaped being mentally screwed.

Step five, this is where it gets messy.
This day was always going to come,
It's the day you considered looking, you make a start of it too.

The sixth comes slowly,
Maybe a year later after things have finally calmed down
In this complex situation,
You get some kind of response.

Number seven, you start to question things.
Eight: now you question everything.
You officially realise almost everyone is a liar.

Nine, someone else comes along to make you confused,
You conflict yourself so much as if it's good news.
Ten is where you welcome back the mixed emotions you've had the whole way through,
Except now they're amplified by tenfold,
Have fun getting through!

Eleven: you get some answers that half work to your advantage,
Yet still tell you absolutely nothing,
And now you're back to how you felt before;
Longing for the opposite outcome;
To have someone that cares.

Step twelve is where you're at right now,
You're absolutely horrified,
Do you look once more,
Open your soul up to people,
So that they can tear it up again?
Ask if you can become their slave,
So that you get the chance to feel their mass rejection of you?

This whole way through,
You question, do you want to know who made you?
Are you really sure that you want to find out what disgusting genes exist within you?
By searching I feel like
I'm begging for a family,
Trying to tell someone they have to have me,
But they made me lonely.
Why should I fall to the feet of people,
Who do not deserve me?
Who purposely removed me?

Sometimes I wonder if I really want it,
I inform myself I know I don't need it,
I recite how it won't make it better,
Instead the discomfort will fester
And I won't be able to hide,
I'll be unable to make it go away:
And that's my biggest fear.

I've learnt by now,
How scary it is, when it comes around
To asking for things;
Carrying out the consequences.
By the time I get what I thought I wanted,
I no longer desire for it:
Instead I've put myself in Hell,
A place where I've backed myself into a corner:
And I'll never find an escape.

Somehow that storm has past:
I've survived, I'm still alive
But after that I'm back to needing.
Needing things to be okay,
Realising what I've missed out on,
All over again,
Yet I'm too scared to find it,
Because of how terrorising
It was the last time,
That I almost found what I've
Always been waiting for.

What I can't handle is,
Providing someone with my weaknesses.
This is one of the things
That could really hurt me,
And I'd be screaming it at the top of my lungs,
To some stranger that I've
Never heard of.

Eventually, every now and then,
The time comes around,
When I'd like to give in.
I'll just try, this one more time,
Maybe it won't be so bad,
Maybe one day if I do this it won't make me sad.

There's always this one thing
I don't understand:
Is how this makes people so damn happy.
It's like a celebration, a liberation.
Why are they so happy,
To find people who treated them like rubbish before they really even existed?
They spent their whole life without them,
Because they simply gave them up
And I don't care about the so called "reasons",
For me it's just not good enough,
And then they're so happy to get the chance,
To discover them.

Can't they see it how I do?
They got rid of you,
They didn't want you before you even had the chance
To do anything wrong.
How can you look at,
Or hear of
Your own flesh and blood
And decide to get rid of it,
Like an old worn out rug?

So tell me, why should I live for,
Someone else who doesn't give a toss,
Who goes on with everything else,
While I grew up.
Do you know what it's like,
Being the kid in the playground,
Surrounded by their friends with their parents,
Whilst you're there with no father or mother in sight?
Do you know what it's like,
To cry at night saying you miss someone,
Someone you have never known,
Because you didn't understand,
That you can't miss a privation;
You can't miss what's never been there,
Because you're too young?
Do you have a clue,
What it feels like, to wonder why you weren't good enough,
To even have a crappy father?
Why you couldn't have a father at all?

But children are resilient,
You'll be happy to know,
So you get through all that,
Like it's nothing at all.
Then for some reason,
It all crushes you when you least expected it,
You see you've been apathetic, not caring about it.
Then one day you wake up,
And your whole life evolves around it,
Almost like an obsession that you can't stop,
You're sure it hits you harder than before,
With no visible cause, and you can't gather why
This suddenly matters so much now,
But it just does.

They may have gotten rid of you,
Before they had the chance to see you breathe,
That's not important though,
Because you'll suffer all the same,
With constant thoughts after you're sure you have escaped.
You'll wonder why they're so inexcusable
And so dissolute.
You'll ask yourself what you should do,
And in this society, many people think it's great, they think it's fun to find out
Just exactly who left you, who ditched you, who made sure you didn't even know their name,
Thinking about it will make you feel enraged,
Disgusted, but all the same:
These thoughts,
They will never seem to go away.
sunprincess Jul 8
You will see what I mean, log onto any internet site
Pick up your remote and turn on any station
Read your local paper, chat with all your neighbors
This is one more unbelievable investigation

Impossible! He's lying, she's lying, they're all lying
Things like this just don't happen in our nation
In this great land, people are down right respectable
Believe this everyone receives a proper education

See families with children are always kept together
Small children being raised by parents impeccable
Government entities aren't transplanting flowers
Check this, in this great land of morales acceptable

Would you believe one has their own perspective?
Half of what I said just may be true for all of you
On the other hand everything I said may be false
So if you choose, you can say the sky is baby Blue

Only some of us know the Truth!
What would you call the home which sits,
simple, in reverence of fiction, sits in reverence,
on two knees and a nose sniffing pubic bones?
What would you call a thing which makes,
a thing which creates meaning, much less,
than it sucks the meaning away?

The past ushers futures inside that my parents
made, and their parents made, and their parents,
it seems I'm younger than I think. B o r n,
i n t o a w o r l d o f d e t r i t u s . b o r n,
into a

Happy. Happy. Happy.
My body will carry use
once I am dead. I
think I taste the dirt.

Happiness in head.
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