deepundergroundpoetry.com
My Mom
My mom I never really got to know her
I have vague memories of her kindness but strangeness
She heard voices and would become manic
I'm ashamed to say even as a child though I loved her
I was also embarrassed by her eratic behavior
I loved her she had such a kind soul
Would take me to mass and though I would sguiggle and squirm
She would kindly admonish me hush little one and listen to the priest
These are my fond memories of her
Mostly I was an angry little girl
Left alone most of the time running the streets at three years old
She was committed to the hospitol and some how I had been left alone
I had been left in the house no electricity, no food for three days
I remember well the night the cops came in guns drawn
My back to the wall
From there it was off to foster care
I remember pleading with the kind social worker
To take me home
That I would be a good girl
Terrified of a foreign home
From there I went to live with my dad
All was well he was a crop duster
He did his best to provide me a stable home
Though a rage I couldn't express burned bright inside my tiny heart
I alienated people pushed them away
The love I once had for my mom had turned to hate
After I had grown I visited her a couple times in the mental ward
I could no longer make a connection with her she was too far gone
She died when I was eighteen
I didn't miss her
Then when the paranoia and mania
Started to manifest in me
My heart started to grow soft for my mom
I know she is in heaven now
Sane and finally safe
I pray some how she hears me and will forgive me my hate.
I have vague memories of her kindness but strangeness
She heard voices and would become manic
I'm ashamed to say even as a child though I loved her
I was also embarrassed by her eratic behavior
I loved her she had such a kind soul
Would take me to mass and though I would sguiggle and squirm
She would kindly admonish me hush little one and listen to the priest
These are my fond memories of her
Mostly I was an angry little girl
Left alone most of the time running the streets at three years old
She was committed to the hospitol and some how I had been left alone
I had been left in the house no electricity, no food for three days
I remember well the night the cops came in guns drawn
My back to the wall
From there it was off to foster care
I remember pleading with the kind social worker
To take me home
That I would be a good girl
Terrified of a foreign home
From there I went to live with my dad
All was well he was a crop duster
He did his best to provide me a stable home
Though a rage I couldn't express burned bright inside my tiny heart
I alienated people pushed them away
The love I once had for my mom had turned to hate
After I had grown I visited her a couple times in the mental ward
I could no longer make a connection with her she was too far gone
She died when I was eighteen
I didn't miss her
Then when the paranoia and mania
Started to manifest in me
My heart started to grow soft for my mom
I know she is in heaven now
Sane and finally safe
I pray some how she hears me and will forgive me my hate.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 5
reading list entries 0
comments 9
reads 966
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.