Friday, May 5, 2023

The Sonnet of Silence

I wish my mom still lived to see me now

so that she would say I’m what she wanted

and that grandma was still here to “wow”

at the life I built and would have flaunted.

Yet ironically, the wretched aunt lives,

to leave me in fear of meth relapses,

with blackened hands for the torture she gives,

her toothless cackles as hope collapses.

For those in my life, I can’t help but ask

a question that haunts me late at night.

When I lie awake without my mask,

a fear comes that I no longer fight:

Will you become someone that I hate

or will I need you and be too late?

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