My mother

Her bitterness is like a dart
that pierces our hearts.
We all want her to be happy,
we all respond in our own special way.

I want her to change:
to pick up her pieces, take responsibility for her life
and enjoy herself just for being alive.
I want her to understand that Life is but
a unique opportunity for enlightenment.

My brother wants to make her laugh,
He wants to bring the smile back onto her pale, sad face.
He believes that by giving up his own life
and caring for her he will gain redemption
for his sin of not being good enough.

My father gave up on her long ago.
He used to give her the treasures of the earth
but nothing seemed to have joyed her enough.
So, in response, he retrieved into acute alcoholism.

Not her; she has not given up on
blaming the world for her sorrows.
She reings like a queen while pretending to be
a servant of her environment.
In her desperation, pain and anguish
she demands her birthright:
to be entertained, to be cared for,
to be saved from her own self-imposed doom.

Except, nobody can help.
Her bitterness and loath have spoilt
her Heart for good.

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