The Mother

My baby girl.

I crave nothing more than to surrender

To ease the burden of carrying you

To bask in the penumbra of a shadow long untended

Let you claim me as I am and bear your mark of Cain -

But as always,

My proclivity for ego supersedes.

I omit my humanly undertakings

In my chase for a perfectionism

I am not built for

I conceal and conceal and conceal

As though I do not feed you in the back room

I wish I knew better

On some level I do

I never asked to be your mother.

If I ever get to flesh you out this is not what I had in mind

And the sickness that you instill to even look you in the eye

Are you evil or am I?

But -

I love the lull of rocking you to sleep.

Above any higher power that wants to scrub me pure and clean

I will protect you though I know you would not protect me.

What kind of mother would I be if I did not try?

I should not try.

For one day you will outgrow me

And I will no longer be able to hide you

My malevolent, beautiful girl

To wither is the expense of keeping you alive.