Torn
It’s as predicable as the sun rising and setting
The words of weapons passing by my tongue
Perhaps its what I see in myself
Mirrored from my past childhood of discontentment
Although I’ve always thought I was trying in my strangest way
To wish away the demons that plagues your thinking
You must know I didn’t purposely try to bruise your heart
What have I done to separate our bond?
Now we thrush away the protected layers
Leaving the raw form there in the open
Traumatized and bleeding
I see now the mess I’ve made; can I mend your pain?
You’re my heart my soul my purpose for living
I bear the consequences on a daily basis
Hidden away like a restless child with torn fingernails
I dwell in the disappointment from my Mother
Knowing all I wanted to do was be better
I’m regretful please accept my apology
I love you!
Mom
Copyright © Laura Mckenzie | Year Posted 2009
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