I Was Born To A Mother In Pain

I was born to a mother
in pain.
I:
drank milk,
played with toys,
enjoyed bright colors.
My curiosity kindled
into flames.
Father came in tides.
My mother almost lost me
to the sea,
to the law.
to the world.
I remember the anarchy
of children.
The honesty they gave
in a civilised world.
Soon to be tamed.

I was told I had too
many gifts,
So they took some away.
I still keep the best one,
but they have all the
accessories.
I see the other side of
the spectrum.
Mother plays God:
always felt,
never seen,
always loved.
The tide comes in, but I
don’t want to get wet.
I move to a calm beach.
There’s:
a television set,
one bed,
a small kitchen
all in one room.
I feel:
my mother’s hand in
mine,
the dust under my feet,
the only peace I’ve
known.
That is washed away.
I meet people and play ‘friend’.
I smite them with my gift.
They still have the accessories.

I wake up to:
loud noises,
realization,
the cool air around my
hand.
The tide never comes;
I don’t live near the beach.
I trek inward towards the
city.
Towards the sounds.
Behind is:
the beach,
the vibrant colors,
the silence of memories.
Forward is confusion.
Forward is darkness.
I’ve found lanterns along
the way.
I hope they don’t go out.
I want a torch.
It gives light and warms my hand.

The city is noisy.
The tide never comes.
I’m excited,
But I miss the coast. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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