Ugh

When I was young
Father meant comfort--
Getting down on one knee
to button the jacket
that was a puzzle to my
fragile
fingertips.

Sometimes what should be
and what is
are never paralleled.

But when I look into the mirror
all i see is you.
Reflecting past mistakes,
hoping we are granted
another try.

And here we are
Everyday inhaling insecurities
Like oxygen.
Following the path
we were told
would lead us to success.
I'm stuck writing these stories
you know so well.

In reality father
means you.
Sitting back.
Relaxing.
Coors number 6
fingertips at the edge
of hate.

Too angry at failure
to button up my heart
in a ribcage too open.

Four

Four
Chloe J

I believe I come from
the Earth.
The only mother I've got.

I come from everything on this planet--
that has never had a say
in how it has been treated.
Brothers and Sisters in Christ
slice through leaves
for a new way to worship.


I am from where
You come from--
The hope that the grey sky
was a mere punishment.
For the clouded lies we present her,
and the tomorrow you thought
would never come.

I'm the cotton tee shirt
from the cotton fields.
I'm the cotton you thought pure,
until I came home a mess.

I push away
Over and over again.
And in return
a tear streaked sunset.
Is it possible to walk away
on such an inspiring mother?

9:56

Were we born perfect?
And then our environment forced sin upon us?
Or is our personality present at birth that affects the decisions we make?

I make no sense

Um

What is it that makes mornings so hard?
What is it that makes night so easy?