Enter with me here, this painting…of a mother holding her failure to thrive child…ever so tightly…so tight you might find fright in the idea that the child might be…getting squeezed to death…
Intentionally… although she’ll never confess.
She recognizes not what she does.
And it matters not, because she has no success
From a litany of habits to a newborn savage
Now we have a new teacher
Maybe even a preacher…
Let us watch her ravage
This is a story from the grim reapers pet creature
The fight without…is within but not without you in mind.
Remember…you’re not blind. That’s the lie you believed within the rind of your heart.
As the days go by,
I watch you sitting in that little bay window.
As you watch the world on the other side go by.
You cry because it’s raining,
And the sun never seems to be shining…
But you don’t realize that it’s raining because you’re crying.
So long as you keep crying, the sun will never start shining.
Sometimes I hear your lonely sigh or I’ll see you try not to cry…but you never fully stop to realize…it’s all up to you… It’s your choice whether it rains or shines. You don’t realize the magic in that heart of emotions that create your life’s’ grinds,
When you cry the angels outside in the clouds do the same…
When you smile, the sun fairies come out to play and come to show you all is fine.
So…turn to me now, let’s investigate this teardrop right here.
There are many, but this one is under our microscope…
It’s the paint drop in our hand now
Look closely and you’ll find what she feels
A mother’s desire
And a daughter’s satire
A daughters tear
And a mother’s worst fear
All the glow, makeup, and attire
Quickly to diminish and retire
Into deep-seated fates
Of misguided and misplaced hates
And Family’s hand me down traits
Your mother abandoned you,
Looking back too,
Grandma wasn’t really there either
She was back there, back then,
But all we can remember is when
She just sat there
With that distant blank stare
Somewhere inside they all held deep despair
Oh, how life isn’t fair.
It’s seeded so deep
Even though Grandma couldn’t tell ya
No one can pinpoint
We’re all following this poem when all of a sudden the interruption happens. It’s the fight without just cause, this little fury comes a bouncing and a weaving through these lines like a quarterback getting out of line. She’s quickly building up her unstable defenses, stacking it up like a game of Jenga.
Subscribe to get access to the entire poem
Read more of this content when you subscribe today. All fund support the creation of this content and maintenance of this site.