this form of rage can make me choke inside
but somewhere deep within i hear the steady rhythm of justification.
don't get hung up on the typos
and the forgotten birthday calls.
the past was merely days of open hands where a hollow book resided.
that book has since been burned
it didn't amount to much, they proved.
taking sideways steps to blind faith will get you nowhere but lost i say.
she clings to those words that she's spent hours and a lifetime finding
and though they can loosely be attached to her here and now
everyone knows she's a lost soul
standing on the brink of something undefinable.
you can apply these words to someone you may know or even the one who writes them
but really the imagination could take you farther to a truer answer.
a woman who stands behind a table calls my name
she neither knows me or cares to really understand my point of view
but i take my place in her line
for what it's worth
and when i close my eyes at the hauntingly bright light she shines in my face
she closes a curtain and turns away.
mother, i say
will you please stop forgetting about me.
you leave me every time i am critical of your sensibilities
and how you couldn't understand girls like me.
threaten me with your beliefs
disregard me to take back a point from your own mother but
does it really ever even out?
you are moved by her in her dying days
you say she has become so sweet-
the mother you always believed you deserved in some way.
well i can hear everything you are saying
and though you've leaned against me for years
some things always start out being a war
i can only hope our end will be something similar
to your answered prayer.
but as i look in your direction i remind myself
that i like to keep perspective...
