My Mama

She who soars Just beneath the clouds The weight around her neck heavy It’s too much But she won’t say it She won’t admit that Her labor might have been In vain Her creations treat her as The bane Of their existence One snip of the rope A claw for the neck That holds the shoe she bought Italian leather Dried out by the heat Of unrequited Love Do they even love her Their nose sky high With disdain And she holds The might of a thousand suns is on her shoulders She is all dried up Even the oil of the coconut The olive The seed Has been planted In her back For her womb is tired And She is tired My mother is tired And no one will help