words for your mother when the seasons change

i live 

in a state of perpetual provocation

even my organs protest

i feel them churning

with discomfort

their screams haunt my insides

casting a dark and foreboding cloud

over my soul




abundantly needed

and what can i do

i look to my mother

waiting for her to be equally as horrified and hurt

the spring cloud begins to rain

lightly, lightly



as i realise

that she

is not nearly as outraged

as she should be

i scream

like frozen blueberries


in the cold

the air engulfs me like a shroud

late spring remembers my name

but i myself

do not

and so i look to my mother


for my name on her tongue


for my face in her eyes

but the spring cloud continues to rain

melting winter’s pain

and drowning my own

pitter-patter, my love

we’ll all be gone in the summer.

co-written by pal A1


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