Written in May 2018

To My mother who In my Lifetime

.

Who makes me give a second thought,

On the meaning of these words

For words can cut like a scythe- 

Or can mend the torn white cloth

That it once tore.

It is far easier to use a scalpel than a needle,

Both have the intent to help,

But the intent gets lost in the chaos of the red.

To My mother, in my Lifetime

Who broke the feeling side,

Leaving the bitter husk that is now left.

Her intent was good, of course it was.

Pitty Ockham, for we can always assume,

That the mother wants the best for the child Can we

Know that a mother has goodness in her heart,

And not need to assume the obvious.

To My Lifetime,

That I forced to keep going,

Hoping for the hope that is missing.

In which I have learned what not to do,

By the faults of those once so close to me.

This is To My mother who in my Lifetime,

Tried, that’s all you need to pass.

I have no anger towards her,

For I made myself this way,

I am Me.