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Sweet Mother Of Mine

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  • Sweet Mother Of Mine

    dear mother of mine,
    your absence filled most of my childhood
    much like your mother's did yours
    which is quite fine because i've always been told
    it's a lovely thing to be the spitting image of your mother
    despite how she was less addicted to heroin than you are
    and how her binge drinking seems social and infrequent
    compared that little habit of yours
    and it's quite fine as well that in your drug-induced frenzies
    you destroyed all material items in sight
    including the only meaningful thing I had left, a pocket watch
    gifted to me by the husband you willingly drove away,
    the only father figure i've ever had to this day
    forever astray due to your minor cravings

    dear mother of mine,
    i want your heart to swell with guilt and regret
    upon reading this, because you've never shown me
    or even alluded to being remorseful for your actions
    i often times wonder: was it my birth that plagued you?
    or perhaps it was your inability to be affectionate
    that wreaked havoc throughout our household for a over a decade
    but it's quite fine that you don't acknowledge it
    i wouldn't expect someone with a minor addiction like
    yourself to offer sympathy, because it's "no big deal"
    as you've told me before, time and time and time again
    and in my naivety, I wrongfully gave weight to your words
    damning me to being relentlessly let down

    dear mother of mine,
    if there was some way, some action, some thing
    that could be bought to purge all of these unkempt,
    battered thoughts of you from my head
    my perception of you would be perspicuous and pure
    but i can't help but forget that instead of lullabies at night
    you screamed at me calling me meaningless
    and instead of walking with me to our neighborhood parks and navigating freshly paved sunlit trails together
    the only travels we ever took were to the ER where i saw you seize and slip into a month long coma
    and i unhesitatingly missed the entire final month
    of my senior year including prom and graduation
    which is quite fine because being by your side
    as you toured rock bottom and flirted with death
    meant more to me than anything school could ever offer
    so never once did i complain nor miss a single evening
    by your side for i loved you so much,
    much more than you ever let me show you

    dear mother of mine,
    did you i ever tell you that you never gave me a chance
    to truly enjoy my youth because i would always
    take care of you, despite your persistent neglect for me,
    the only child you've ever, but reluctantly had?
    i suppose it's quite fine that you don't know
    but a part of me wants you to understand the burden,
    understand the reeking scent of petrichor from the deluge you've left me to sulk in and forever inhale
    and the same part of me wants you to understand
    the angst, understand the taste of all the fragmented, calamitous images of you that have coalesced into monstrous memories
    are all i have to serve as my lifelong reminders of you and my upbringing
    because you've never given me anything worthwhile
    only resources and knowledge to help get your next fix
    although "break" would be more appropriate

    dear mother of mine,
    all i've ever yearned for is for you to comprehend me
    not only because i'm all you have left, but because
    no matter what you say or do, i'll always be your child who you can rely on
    but you never have, which i suppose is also quite fine
    but just know that because of your lack of sympathy,
    the only understanding that has grown is that which resides within me
    when i look at the faceless passerbys surrounding me
    and know that not just you, but they as well
    are walking cemeteries, carrying the ghosts
    of their pasts with them at all times
    consisting of lost loves, failed dreams, and severed ties
    what was paramount to me was hearing from you
    "I'm proud of you" and "I love you for who you are"
    yet continously, in place of those words i received
    strings of curse words in drunken fits
    and abandonment at the times in which i was alone and morose
    yearning for you to come into my room and care for me
    as i'm told mothers are supposed to do, but i wouldn't know
    because never once did you so much as attempt to console my for my grievances
    so my tears painted my sheets countless nights
    and surely did i drown in them as my covers lay coated over my lifeless body

    dear mother of mine,
    though it seems i should harbor a deep rooted antipathy towards you,
    for your marina has long overflowed with disgust and betrayal towards me
    despite how badly, and i can't stress badly enough
    i wished i could feel the same about you
    and everything you've ever said to me to break me
    and everything you've ever done to me to abuse me
    i swore to myself that i would not be bound to you
    by anything other than love, and that i would remain
    undeterred by your constant mistakes in order to grow
    because the last thing i will do is carry on
    and perpetuate your tainted legacy and become
    exactly who you say that i am because you do not know
    who i am, and have never understood anything about me
    so you are less than deserving of my anger
    and being able to dictate who it is that i will be
    so it is quite fine that i will never forget when you told me you hated me
    before slamming my teenage fingers inside the front door
    and disappearing for five consecutive months
    because i tried to stop you from leaving me
    and dooming me to live with another distant family member once again

    dear mother of mine,
    my pen has drawn inkless from vulnerability
    and my paper has become soaked in openness
    but i have no regrets, because for as long as i can recall
    i have felt an unwavering inclination to write to you
    so it's only just that you know everything i have thought
    these years in which have lived in silence
    however, i must admit that i have grown weary
    from waging a hidden war within my heart for decades
    one that i refuse to continue, but this does not mean that i will surrender
    it merely means that i have matured far beyond my years
    because i understand that you couldn't raise me well
    regardless of how frequently i tried to help you do so
    so i will live my life as though you never existed
    and that's quite fine, because i can keep teaching myself
    little things like sewing, arts and crafts, and cooking
    like i always have, because you were never there to

    dear mother of mine,
    if only you could grasp the extent which your actions
    have affected me, your little habit would be long gone
    like my hope of you being sober has
    but your presence has always been evanescent
    and your words a collection of vacant letters loosely bound together
    and unfulfilled promises full of deceit and empty assurances
    which isn't so bad because all i've never known is such,
    and i wouldn't dare be foolish enough to expect
    any different of you, so no longer will i continue
    to try to turn a grown woman's life around
    or go out of my way keep her temperate
    because like you've always told me growing up
    more times than i care to recall
    that little habit of yours is "quite fine"
    so i will let you be, and overindulge in your vices
    until they they consume you as you have them
    for all of your actions will soon come full circle
    and burn you down like the many bridges you have, or attempted to tread
    and you will feel nothing but shame and regret
    but i will progress as i always have
    and you will remain stagnant as you always have
    and continue to be my one and only
    honest and pure
    sweet mother of mine

    Mary Wilson
    Virginia Beach, Virginia
    Last edited by ZeAnder Carter; 02-01-2015, 08:57 PM. Reason: Minor tweaks.