Originally Writen August ninth 2015
"Why is Positively Fourth street your favorite Mommy?"
She roams now.
No place to call home, quite literal.
She roams now.
No place to call home, quite literal.
She is like me in this way, only A little too late.
Now she is the silhouette of that Dylan melody;
she loved way back when,
she loved way back when,
when she Still dreamt.
Of a love of her own, happiness, freedom.
Of a love of her own, happiness, freedom.
I saw that girl when she sang out so bold and swung her hips slowly side to side... filled with certainty of the lyrics genuinity.
The most beautiful I had ever seen her.
It was gone before i could take in all it's splendor.
Now I know for certain.
She told me weeping, in her very own angered words during a late night phone call,
"I feel like the carelessly thrown breadcrumbs left for pigeons!"
I was taken a back at one of her few displays of articulating her feelings properly and poetically...
She told me weeping, in her very own angered words during a late night phone call,
"I feel like the carelessly thrown breadcrumbs left for pigeons!"
I was taken a back at one of her few displays of articulating her feelings properly and poetically...
"I am very sorry you feel that way Mother, but I have to say, that was very well put.
Well said Mom!"
Well said Mom!"
She then seemed to ponder if what I had interrupted her to say was at all relevant to her weary heart that she has now once again, verbally displayed for me... Then seemed to conclude it to be minuscule at best.
she repeated it once more with less pain and continued her unsolicited lament.
she repeated it once more with less pain and continued her unsolicited lament.
I forgive her of her selfishness.
I Do not recall a time she said aloud that she was proud of me.
Nor that it means anything to her at all that I am doing so well.
even asking me how I was, what i thought.
I always have had to volunteer information such as that.
while she stagnates within her meek facade,
A testament to the marvel of the human mind.
the fact that she has kept up this martyr, victim delusion for as long as she has.
All that strength aimed in the wrong direction.
It is a wonder, truly.
If only she could see that she doesn't have to play that role anymore.
while she stagnates within her meek facade,
A testament to the marvel of the human mind.
the fact that she has kept up this martyr, victim delusion for as long as she has.
All that strength aimed in the wrong direction.
It is a wonder, truly.
If only she could see that she doesn't have to play that role anymore.
I tell her that I have been working on a memoir most of my days...
abruptly cuts me off with an adamant shout;
"I wasn't abusive!".
She has said that, out of nowhere, through out my entire life.
Totally unprovoked, without any direct accusations.
It does not take much psychological knowledge to figure out why.
It is also clear that she has accomplished her goal.
She now believes them. Absolutely. Her denial has been a success.
abruptly cuts me off with an adamant shout;
"I wasn't abusive!".
She has said that, out of nowhere, through out my entire life.
Totally unprovoked, without any direct accusations.
It does not take much psychological knowledge to figure out why.
It is also clear that she has accomplished her goal.
She now believes them. Absolutely. Her denial has been a success.
Her dreams although... The dreams I saw in the way she swayed her slim hips .
The dreams I heard within her passion while she sang out
"I used to be among the crowd your in with...."
It was her hand that threw them.
Mary Catherine, Cowardice Queen
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