Oh Mommy

eighteen years separate us,
I am and will always be younger,

my hair is dark brown
as yours once was,
yet now when mine shines
yours is flecked with grey,

as you struggle to breathe
I run the down street,

My eyes are not yours their his,
I often find myself asking
if that's what it is,

you were afraid to say anything
your head bowed to nothing,
I refuse to bite my tongue
saying what needs to be said,
and I shall bow down to no one,
not
even
you,

I wanted the paint and the brushes
yet fate had other plans for me,
maybe your angry at your own destiny,
I'm not sure, but, just so you know,
fuck you for being you
and giving birth to me