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Stutters from an unsure daughter
Mother,
Yeah, mother, that sounds nearly right,
I mean it is who you are, but sometimes the title seems so far away
I need you, that much I'm sure,
Yeah, I need you, like I haven't drank water in a millennium and I thirst kind of I need
you ,
I know you're supposed to fill up my cup,
So like, can you please do that,
I'm sort of losing my mind on empty
I guess empty's not as bad as in-between though;
It's like we're nearly there, and I feel it,
I reach out, and your thirst quenching centre piece disappears
Can we not do that anymore?
I hate back and forth,
I know, I'm one to talk,
I sometimes let my pride get the best of me,
Learning not to let my environment alter what's in my core is a process,
A lengthy process,
The whole thing is really
But you would know,
I mean, you're the one in control here,
The queen of quintessential peace,
My sanctuary,
Mother?
Don't let me drown in the ocean I detest,
Don't let me go,
Please,
I, I really don't know what I'm doing Mother.
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From Of Lilith and Delilah (with Our Mother.)
Just for context with these next few poems I share, from the last few generally absurd months and years, I am in the final - stages -if you will- of being 19, a somewhat interesting position I'm sure many feel, and this is what has inspired me to share while I can once again on here.