Too much, Mother?
To you, who crushed the carbon in my bones together so hard it spat out diamonds. Who told me I was the clever one, so good looks weren’t mine to find them.
Who told me, I should have been a boy.
Who for all her damage, taught me
How to absolutely destroy.
I’ve pushed so hard against you,
I became the antidote.
I’m not the accidental song you wrote.
To you, whose black eyes made me question love and all it’s colours.
Whose advice made me mistrustful of all mothers.
I will never be a carbon copy but credit where it’s due.
I worked so hard to avoid duplication,
I crafted you, anew.
A being who would give her life, her love, and yes her man.
I apologise I know it’s an alien concept,
keep up if you can.
I will guide my child, with love, knowledge, strength and open hands.
To teach me, with their purity all that you never can.
But as you always said, that’s impossible, because I’m selfish, yes I am.
Because you taught me preservation,
before green eggs and ham.
So guess what, I’m down an offspring
and so are you,