acceptingthepast
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Dear Mom,
Most the time dad was not home
So you were the one who raised me
I almost put you through so much pain
I could never tell you to your face
The drawer squeaks as I open it up
covered in cob webs and dust
as I peer inside to see what it holds
Pens and pencils, barely used too
yet seem worn, so they're tossed
the action seemed long overdue
Moving Forward
Yes, life can be hard
And the world can be cold.
At times you have nothing,
Not a hand to hold.
But we must look to the future,
And the past behind.
I need a release to find some peace
Take me away with your grace
To find some peace in this space
Calm the raging war in my mind
Close those doors in the sky.
You're making my plans with such demand
I refuse to allow my past to define me,
I am not my Diabetes.
I am not my Anemia.
I am not my Thyroditis, or my Hoshimotos Disease.
I am not the chronic illnesses that plauged my past.
What was I to her,
or she to me;
I only wanted less,
you only wanted more:
The rips and burns that
Destroyed and obliterated
Anything that I could’ve,
Anything that you would’ve,
