The Better Person
By atia
I have seen the women often, Seemingly comfortable in their lives, All the while dreaming, Gazing out the windows At the worlds their children live and breathe. Vicarious living Could never have meant more to them Than it already did, And less to the rest of us. I am the ungrateful child. My mother gives to everything, And hides the inappropriate. Beaten back and yet Teaching me the value Of being 'The Better Person.' Now that her soft exterior Has been pelted with indifference, She looks to me with quizzical eyes, Stares into space and wonders why, Tells me 'Learn from what I have done.' Her biggest fear, Deep in the haunts of her sanity, Is that one day We, her very own children, Might look at her The way she sees herself - All the while gaping, Staring through the little hole That offers a view to our worlds.I love my mother very much and it seems she spent her whole life giving in hope of the appreciation she never received.. Written January 14th, 2002 © on Jan 14 2002 05:33 AM PST 18 • 0 • 9
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"I have seen the women often,..."