Sometimes I wonder if I am my mother’s daughter.
The things I feel and think mimic memories of her.
Did she ever feel alone in a room full of people?
Did she ever smile to hide the tears?
What was behind all those fears?
How did I end up this way?
As an adult I yearn for maternal guidance.
But circumstances make it impossible to see in the dark.
Parentless adulting is hard
How can I be grown with no guidelines
I don’t know how to be someone
Who people depend upon
Opaqueness is all I get when I try to see in the future
Tell me what do I do?
Am I my mother’s daughter?
She cared about everyone but herself
Her eyes were full of bushes tears
Her happiness was depended upon her children
Who was the woman before she was. The self sacrificing mother, wife, sister, and daughter?
How do I be myself when I fall in her shadow?
She was my whole life, my drive
Now with what purpose do I thrive?