I woke up with the sun
coming through the blinds
hitting me in the face
like a reminder
only my mother can deliver
when she asks
ever so casually
if I've been writing
My response to this act
of natural hostility
was to grab my pillow
and tunnel through the blankets
to where the sun
couldn't catch me
for at least a few hours more
a few conversational beats
I've tried to explain
that every time she asks
it makes me want to give up
to embrace mediocrity
but there's not enough truth
to even convince myself
so I reassure her that I'm dabbling
I reassure myself
It's not like this is easy
like pulling my personal life
through the word mill
makes things any better
just more readily accessible
to those who want to care
to those like my mother
who want so badly to believe
No comments:
Post a Comment