deepundergroundpoetry.com
dear mother pt. 1
i can scarcely fathom, begin to unpack
the stars i once saw in your eyes, burnt out beyond repair
a husk of a once nurturing soul, now plagued
the voices, they come, they come from the abyss
and yet i cannot tell you, you won't comprehend what 'he'
he, who is he, what he desires.
t̸̝̻͉̚h̵͈͍͖̄a̴̡̩͑ť̷͈͊͐ ̸̯̯́̏͊ẉ̶̫̈h̸̥̝̦̽a̵̛̰̽t̵̖̱̉ ̴͍͓̺͝s̵͕̱̤͑͂̽ḫ̵͒e̶̎͊ͅ ̸͈͖͈̐̀t̶̰̤̳͝ő̶̫̼ļ̵̐͆d̵̬̚ ̴̦͍̾͠m̸͉̼̉̂ĕ̸̝̬́ ̷͉̤́͑͜w̸̥̰̩̉ŏ̷̢̯͖r̵̹̖̦̕m̴̞͚̰̏ș̷͑ ̸̡̝̀̎ȋ̵̤̘̉͝n̵̹̂͘s̸̹̈́̃͛i̴̞̱͗d̷̙͙̤͛͒ȩ̶̛̭̱̇ ̵̘̒͌̏m̵̮̻͂̆̕y̴̱̔̿ ̴͈̀̀̂m̶̖̣͍̉̔̒i̶̯̬̹͝n̴̢̺̠͊d̷̪̍̊,̴̟͙̈́̐ ̵͗͂͜f̶̩͒o̷̡̦̽̀r̶̢̥̞͗ȩ̵̫̫̎͆̅v̸̡̻̝̎̀e̸̙͑ȑ̵̡͝ ̶͖̬̖̐͗d̶͎̦́̓e̵̛̳ć̸̱̈́a̵͖͝ͅy̸̟̳̭͝i̷̺͂͘n̶͇̂̋g̴̹̲̞͛̓.̸̛͉͈͌̀
the hand which grasped with d e s p e r a t i o n ,
turned skeletal, the notion of nurture turned sour.
curdled breath whispers, wishes, beckons for me to...
love that which was my ruin, my skin..
M̵̛̮̏̇̎͒Ȩ̸̛͖̞̭̗̫͕̐̈́͐̎̃̋̑̏̍̅͐̋͛L̶̗̗̬̰̦̑Ț̴̛̜̙͈͍͕̬̬͌̉̾̒S̸̡̛͍̳̩̫͈̬̹̰̺̳̱͖͔͍̑͒͐̒̽̍̅̄̽̌̏̽̄̐̚͘ ̴̡̥̰͔͉̫̜̒̉̃͑͆͜͝Ú̵̡̫̼̩̤͚̼͜P̶̲̼̙̤̮̦̠̠̥̬̄̄̓̐͝ͅȮ̸̞̰̜̫̊̍̑̆̔̅̉̅͑̈́͌̕͘Ņ̶̧̧̧͔̻̲̯͔̳͉̖̄̒̋̐͐̌͐̍̚̚ͅͅ ̶̨̠̒̓͛́̄̓͂͘C̶͍̑͑͆̽̇̓̓̃̎͒̕͝Ó̵̡̢̰̩̹̱̗̝͔̈́̿̓̀͝N̷̪̹̟̳͙̻̖̬͇̝̽̓̀͜ͅT̷̨̧̟̱̮͙̳̖̜͖̉͗͌̎̃̔͒͘ͅǍ̴̧̛̠̰̲͕̹͓̹̪̩͈́̀̂̓C̸̛̝̯͉̈́́̅͐͌̈́̃̿̆̐̓͐̕Ţ̵̡̛̻͛̀̀̄̾͌͛̒̂͋͑͒̓͝͝ (DON'T TOUCH ME)
i am no longer myself,forced to return to...
that which resulted in the s h a t t e r e d ,fragments i still try...
oh i try in vain to piece back into one.
i will ņ̴̦̙͖̱͖̪͓̤̝̱̘͉̞́̊͑̒e̷̺͇̯̞̥̊̈́̄̾͒̓̑͗̐̀̐̎̀͛̈͆͊v̵̰̳͙̇͋̈̀̓́̋͒̑̈́̋̿̕̚͝͠ȩ̶̹̻̜̙͙̳͍̬͕̣͈̼̻̠̖̾͛͋ͅr̶̛͙͇̟̹̉̈́͛͒̎̃̑͗̈͘̚̚͝ be whole.
and you will forever carry the weight of innocence lost.
the stars i once saw in your eyes, burnt out beyond repair
a husk of a once nurturing soul, now plagued
the voices, they come, they come from the abyss
and yet i cannot tell you, you won't comprehend what 'he'
he, who is he, what he desires.
t̸̝̻͉̚h̵͈͍͖̄a̴̡̩͑ť̷͈͊͐ ̸̯̯́̏͊ẉ̶̫̈h̸̥̝̦̽a̵̛̰̽t̵̖̱̉ ̴͍͓̺͝s̵͕̱̤͑͂̽ḫ̵͒e̶̎͊ͅ ̸͈͖͈̐̀t̶̰̤̳͝ő̶̫̼ļ̵̐͆d̵̬̚ ̴̦͍̾͠m̸͉̼̉̂ĕ̸̝̬́ ̷͉̤́͑͜w̸̥̰̩̉ŏ̷̢̯͖r̵̹̖̦̕m̴̞͚̰̏ș̷͑ ̸̡̝̀̎ȋ̵̤̘̉͝n̵̹̂͘s̸̹̈́̃͛i̴̞̱͗d̷̙͙̤͛͒ȩ̶̛̭̱̇ ̵̘̒͌̏m̵̮̻͂̆̕y̴̱̔̿ ̴͈̀̀̂m̶̖̣͍̉̔̒i̶̯̬̹͝n̴̢̺̠͊d̷̪̍̊,̴̟͙̈́̐ ̵͗͂͜f̶̩͒o̷̡̦̽̀r̶̢̥̞͗ȩ̵̫̫̎͆̅v̸̡̻̝̎̀e̸̙͑ȑ̵̡͝ ̶͖̬̖̐͗d̶͎̦́̓e̵̛̳ć̸̱̈́a̵͖͝ͅy̸̟̳̭͝i̷̺͂͘n̶͇̂̋g̴̹̲̞͛̓.̸̛͉͈͌̀
the hand which grasped with d e s p e r a t i o n ,
turned skeletal, the notion of nurture turned sour.
curdled breath whispers, wishes, beckons for me to...
love that which was my ruin, my skin..
M̵̛̮̏̇̎͒Ȩ̸̛͖̞̭̗̫͕̐̈́͐̎̃̋̑̏̍̅͐̋͛L̶̗̗̬̰̦̑Ț̴̛̜̙͈͍͕̬̬͌̉̾̒S̸̡̛͍̳̩̫͈̬̹̰̺̳̱͖͔͍̑͒͐̒̽̍̅̄̽̌̏̽̄̐̚͘ ̴̡̥̰͔͉̫̜̒̉̃͑͆͜͝Ú̵̡̫̼̩̤͚̼͜P̶̲̼̙̤̮̦̠̠̥̬̄̄̓̐͝ͅȮ̸̞̰̜̫̊̍̑̆̔̅̉̅͑̈́͌̕͘Ņ̶̧̧̧͔̻̲̯͔̳͉̖̄̒̋̐͐̌͐̍̚̚ͅͅ ̶̨̠̒̓͛́̄̓͂͘C̶͍̑͑͆̽̇̓̓̃̎͒̕͝Ó̵̡̢̰̩̹̱̗̝͔̈́̿̓̀͝N̷̪̹̟̳͙̻̖̬͇̝̽̓̀͜ͅT̷̨̧̟̱̮͙̳̖̜͖̉͗͌̎̃̔͒͘ͅǍ̴̧̛̠̰̲͕̹͓̹̪̩͈́̀̂̓C̸̛̝̯͉̈́́̅͐͌̈́̃̿̆̐̓͐̕Ţ̵̡̛̻͛̀̀̄̾͌͛̒̂͋͑͒̓͝͝ (DON'T TOUCH ME)
i am no longer myself,
that which resulted in the s h a t t e r e d ,
oh i try in vain to piece back into one.
i will ņ̴̦̙͖̱͖̪͓̤̝̱̘͉̞́̊͑̒e̷̺͇̯̞̥̊̈́̄̾͒̓̑͗̐̀̐̎̀͛̈͆͊v̵̰̳͙̇͋̈̀̓́̋͒̑̈́̋̿̕̚͝͠ȩ̶̹̻̜̙͙̳͍̬͕̣͈̼̻̠̖̾͛͋ͅr̶̛͙͇̟̹̉̈́͛͒̎̃̑͗̈͘̚̚͝ be whole.
and you will forever carry the weight of innocence lost.
Published 4th Nov 2019
Author's Note
it has been a while since i posted a new poem; they're back and as a dark as ever. i recently forced myself to reconcile with my severely mentally ill mother and brother once more before i decided that enough was enough. this is my pain, revel in it.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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