TW:

mommy issues;

mentions of sh, abuse, trauma.

this poem, in the past, would have made me incredibly vulnerable to read, let alone post. but i have grown since then.

it is by far my best, most powerful, and longest poem (684 words!). i hope you enjoy

•••

from a mother

you are given life

and unconditional

love

and care

and happy memories

to share

with your own children some day.

but i was not given

these things

from a mother.

for a mother -

my mother -

gave me life

and some love

and care

but that love

and care

was selective

on whether i

preformed well

according to her

circus.

from a mother

you are taught lessons

on life.

from my mother

i was taught

how to manipulate

to get my way.

how to choose my

words

ever so carefully.

how to dance on

eggshells

and not

make a sound or

break them.

how to lie

how to hide

how to predict a

situations outcome

and how to

guide

a situation

to my preferred outcome.

i was not taught

to love myself

or how to love others

or

who to give my

overbearing love to -

i was taught to

love the sting of

a blade

that i drag across

my skin.

drawing -

creating art with

vibrant red.

i was taught to

swallow the venom

from the bites of

others.

for it is better to

swallow the emotion

rather than let it

hurt

till it has run its course -

as it aches

and throbs within the

wound created.

i learned how

to suppress my

rage

and turn it into

annoyance.

better that than

reacting as

she would.

her anger

was a bonfire -

slowly burning

bigger and

brighter

as the flames fed

off of the wood

it was tossed;

like a starved dog

tossed a steak

but commanded to not

eat

i starved myself

of the release of my

emotions.

as the days dragged on

and the years flew by

my emotions -

they added up -

till i hysterically

let them out

but never

let them go.

it was tiring

carrying the dead

weight of my emotions

and her emotions

and everyone else's emotions

but in order to not

feel as though

i myself were a

burden

i forced my

shoulders and my

fragile soul

to carry others

burdens

for them.

i became

the mother i never had

but always wanted

for everyone else

and deprived myself

of the love

and care

that i so desperately

needed

to grow and thrive.

just as she did,

i put myself second

and in turn

those around me

put me last.

i taught them

what she

taught me;

that i was not

worth

the time or the effort -

to teach

to save

or to love.

i am a

daughter -

a victim

of a mother

who was also

once

a daughter -

a victim

of a mother

but she -

unlike me

still carries

the burdens of

a lost childhood

and an early

loss of innocence

and she unlike me

still refuses

to remove her own

shackles

though the key is

in the slot

she just

sits there

and waits

for a knight

in gleaming armour

unaware that those

men in that armour

are just the

same

as her father;

the devil

in disguise of

a savior.

but that is

all she knows.

for the mother

before her

and many mothers

before her

were not taught

the life lessons one

could only get from

a loving and caring

mother who wore

no shackles.

i come from generations

of these women -

and i hope to break

the chain some day

but i fear

the worst;

becoming a mother

and then

becoming my mother

though i cannot exactly

blame her

for the things she has

done or the words

she has said -

i can't exactly forgive her

either

as she still did

those things and

she still said

those words

and they are engraved

into my brain

yet lost from

my memories.

i may not be the

oldest

whom which

faced the hardest blows -

i am the middle

who quickly learned

to face them

and adapt

as she had learned

through trial and error

and through experience

with the first

how to deal her blows

with no hint

of their coming.

i am not my mother.

we are not our mother.

but the overwhelming

fear of

becoming just like

her

rots away in our

thoughts -

waiting.

waiting.

- alb

•••

this one leaves me speechless after i read it.

any comments?

critiques?

questions?

"Oscar Wilde said that if you know what you want to be, then you inevitably become it - that is your punishment, but if you never know, then you can be anything. There is a truth to that. We are not nouns, we are verbs. I am not a thing - an actor, a writer - I am a person who does things - I write, I act - and I never know what I am going to do next. I think you can be imprisoned if you think of yourself as a noun."

- Stephen Fry

published: july 25, 2022