Different Days

And so, the lazy days arrived,

Brimming with succulent blueberries and a dollop of cream,

Where we hoped to recline in a hammock all day,

Immersed in books and attuned to the melodic chatter of pigeons

About the distant lands.

They didn't welcome us there, but treated us as mere amusement,

Where others found solace in exploiting our misfortune,

Or, perhaps even worse, infecting us with utter ignorance.

While they would spin a yarn to the unsuspecting folks,

Who remained oblivious as the outside door

Remained perpetually locked.

Ignoring the cries that echoed through the open window,

The vivid purple welts on my thighs told a different story.

Mum never acknowledged or attempted to conceal the fact;

Her own childhood traumas linked closely to it.

She continued to perpetuate the cycle

Across generations, leading us straight into misery.

So she prayed as often as she could,

Hoping to change her usual gloomy state of mind,

Into a façade of happiness,

But it has eventually taken its toll on her

She had no way of knowing,

For she had rejected her psychological core

From the very beginning of her existence.

“Living on the surface,” that was her motto,

Never once did she ponder

That she had fashioned a reality in her own likeness.

It's a shame that this never-ending alcoholic dream

Has cost a few lives,

Now illuminated by the spy moon,

And shedding light on me.

Thankfully, this time it happened at the right moment.

~~~

Thank you for reading!