Love is patient and kind.
These things are unknown to you, as your experiences never allowed them to be true.
To the woman who gave me life.
The woman who fulfilled the written requirements of parenting, there is more to us than and outlines.
You must be suffocating within, as I only know the extent of your rigid nature externalized.
The ways in which you believe you keep yourself safe.
Bars and windows acting as protective measures against the cold deny you the ability to see clearly.
There is more on the outside. Outside looking in, it pains me to see you, knowing how you hide.How your mind justifies captivity as a unique means to freedom. Understand, I cannot undo it.
Only you can, if you want to. But mother, damn, the sky is blue sometimes, and the warmth of the sun adds color in ways I wish your eyes were open enough to see with me.
I want to share the sunrise with you, but, you, a vessel committed to demise, this want seems unrealistic, and perhaps this want will remain a dream unrealized.
Mother, only you can break the chains to see what exists on the other side, and it pains me to know how comfortable you lay in your bed of sadness, pride, and pain.
This sadness you mistake for joy changes the clouds to sunshine. Only a genius would be able to trick themselves into thinking that sitting in pain alone is joy. To sit in loss, afraid of losing more.
There is nothing to lose at all, and I resent you for denying my vision.
Smart as you are, you chose to place your eyes in front of mine. Misery loves company, and your misery needed a plus one.
You mistake a slow death for living. Killing yourself in front of me, waiting for me to see how safe you are. Mom, my eyes are sharp, blessed 20/20s.
And I see you for what you are. Shame and pride rule your mind as self-imposed isolation acts to pass the time. How smart and shallow; this allows you to keep your pride.
To lose it would certainly mean suicide. Chuck that shit to the side; I ask you, please.
Come see the sunrise with me. Watch yourself change shape and open wide; it ain’t so bad living on the outside.
I burned my prison to the ground, and with a little help from my friends, I found how beautiful life can be when you see outside yourself.
The Hunger Games are over, mother; the war you started alone never began for others. I resent you for using me as a chess piece, proving to yourself that you are the master.
You are human, as am I. Put down your fists and let yourself cry. It’s been long and lonely; it’s time to be free.
You have not won or lost. Now it’s time to simply just be.
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