Under My Breath Fall in love with yourself; I can help you with that. Seek the core of your passion and I from a distance Can give you an assuring smile if you are on the right, A straight lip if I find you selling yourself a little short! I could even help you grow not to look down on others But to soar above, have an aerial view that is grounding. Let us pursue truth together that its harshness is mellow. Sit by me, beloved child. Let us wear the beggar’s shoe or That of Victoria herself to feel the fears, agony, joy, doubts To relish and assume the velvetiness of a supple, giving soul. You are my mirror, I weep you weep, I smile and you will too. Yet, the old hags tells me how unfit a mother I am to not force Spinach down your little throat, how callous to not time bowels, Undo everything human and make you but a machine in my hands Am I wrong I wonder, as I let you explore your current year Instead of harrying you to immerse in challenges of the next Am I hopeless for not instilling competence and vanity to race You to be the supreme of all puppets and machines! I am torn! My seeds take time to grow and blossom. But till then all I’d say To the old hags (under my breath)is, Screw You!
Posted on: Sun, 21 Jul 2013 12:35:38 +0000
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