The Best?
The Best?
We are surrounded by it,
we are forced-fed it:
we are forced-fed it:
candy-floss sentiments,
pink and fluffy asinine clichés,
the disposable phrases that
bedeck cards and gifts.
Like Christmas, there is that
insidious pressure to conform.
pink and fluffy asinine clichés,
the disposable phrases that
bedeck cards and gifts.
Like Christmas, there is that
insidious pressure to conform.
What if she was the source of
constant pain, emotional damage
the ongoing battle with insanity/sanity.
What if she manipulated, triangulated,
got drunk on sympathy?
What if she wasn’t caring;
what if she only wanted
others to think she was?
What if she wasn’t
“the best mum in the world”?
© Elfstone 2/3/16
© Elfstone 2023
Very open and honest. Must have been a difficult poem for you to write. It tells of a battle, a self-contradictory confusion within yourself. Horrible times.
Goodness me! I thought this one had disappeared into the back of the ‘forgotten poems cupboard’.
Thank you so much for leaving a comment archiemac, and yes it was difficult; it has been “Horrible times” on and off all of my life and now that I am, in a sense, free of it – of her – I find myself still battling … confusion, hurt and anger. Putting it into poetry helps. Elfstone.