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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #2138969
Mind the irony.
I

I love my mother.
Twenty years ago everyone told her,
"keep that baby".

For days she was told,
"keep that baby".
Otherwise, everyone was cold.

"Life is good,"
they said.
"I know," mother agreed.
But still no support
from the environment.

II

I love my mother.
Twenty years later I found myself
in a similar situation.

Every day I thought,
"keep living, you're mother's baby".
But it was so irrational--the rest of me.

I live for my mother,
I don't care about morality.
I don't about the others

or what they think of me.
Every day I'd drill into my head,
"life is good" until it aches.
I have to be the one to do it,
in addition to and when no one says it.

III

During one migraine
I didn't realize I sat on the floor.
Hands on my head and weeping,
like my mother twenty years before.

Finally someone came with news.
The environment was conducive.
Anti-depressant and miracle cures
for anxiety now grew on trees in the park
and it was legal
and acceptable to pick them.

Finally, I can have
lasting happiness just by approaching nature.
Finally, life is finally,
a walk in the park.
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