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About This Author
Well, hello. I’m still testing this.
Angel Feathers
Basically anything under 1k or 500 words that's not a Drabble, an Express It in Eight, or a Promptly Poetry. Enjoy *Smile*

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May 16, 2025 at 7:00am
May 16, 2025 at 7:00am
#1089426
Twenty seven years ago, I was born,
Collarbone broken on the way out,
Imbued with moroseness from the womb.
I knew pain, but forgot it, apparently.
Still, dysfunction runs deep,
A disjointed mashup of entangled weirdness—
At odds with everyone from the beginning—
Particularly my mom.

Long-suffering, she regales me repeatedly with bitter memories
of life before I came along:
treachery and woe, sickness and pain,
Decades of self-sacrifice leading to nothing but disaster.
From which my deeply cynical nature,
Unconvinced otherwise, concluded:
What's the point?
Why do it that way?
Why do as you did,
Or do as you say,
When I can do it my way:
Selfish, silent, solitary, stagnant.
Nihilism unchecked,
I fell, as a stone rolls downhill.

Incompatible, yet forever trapped,
I test the ties that bind like fraying bungee cords,
Flinging myself headlong off cliffs to escape
Only to find myself back again, inevitable.
Drawn to the only person who ever cared,
Demanding what she cannot give me
because she's still seeking it herself:
Wholeness, acceptance, understanding—a home.
We grow old together, homeless at heart,
Unable to connect yet utterly inseparable,
Driving each other crazy,
Wondering why we're still relating
the same way we did when I was two years old.

It can't be her fault—she did the best she could.
Raised me in a garden paradise, books galore,
education at home, safe, protected,
at great costs to her own well-being.
I learned morals, spirituality, miracles, arts and crafts;
I wrote, I played, I dreamed, built worlds.
I aced the ACT, twice.
Where did it all vanish to?
Why am I stuck, immobilized,
wasting irrevocable time,
unable to do for her
All that she does for me?

My worldview is a blindfold.
I need fresh eyes to see positive potential
In myself and others.
Supplanting deep-rooted antisocial attitudes
is tearing up every fiber of my being
Like renovating a haunted house.
But I can't allow myself to rot,
Disappointing my mother
who gives herself up for me
Every single day.

57 lines, 335 words.
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Happy Mother's Day, Mom *Hug1**Cry**Hug2*

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