ladybird

it was the heat

or maybe the moist air

or perhaps it was the summer

that pushed me to leave;

for it is rare for me to not care

but i listened to my mother

cry and shout in that unforgiving weather

she looked at me with so much anger

i wonder if i could ever

look at my daughter

that way

my mother seems more concerned

that people might hate her

but i am her daughter

i am her

and i wish she cared

that i feel this way

is this punishment

for straying

for feeling
and acting

in ways

that she wishes she could change?

what a shame

how could a daughter feel this way?

if i write about it,

will she despise

that I've written about her a certain way?

So then,

I take it all back.

curse the thumb that bleeds!

For it was the heat

or perhaps the moist air

and maybe even the summer

that made me realise

I could no longer stay.

~ ៷

The Noresoup Jukebox