She Hates Her Mom

She hates her mom, resents her, and ignores
her now she’s old and dull and not aware.
I told her toxic feeling rusts and scores
the soul, suggesting that perhaps she’d care
imagining severity and sores
in mother-history. She won’t go there.
Her peace does not abide in shrink, on shelf,
because she has to first forgive herself.

(Ottava Rima)

This entry was posted in Aging, Health, Personality, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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