PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My mother is the water

that moistens andsoftens my hands

while rinsing off my filth.

Comforting and gentle for only a moment at a time.

My motheris the hot water

burning my skin

making it hard to escape

yet at the same time feeling familiar

while scalding my palms.

My mother is the cold water

icy to the touch

and frosty at the core

My mother is the water

changing features when uncomfortable

and never staying one temperature too long.

My mother is thehot water

and the cold

Never the calm warm I so desperatly crave,need

deserve.

So I turn the faucet offand walk away stronger

but the water still runs persistant

and it overflows the sink

until I'm drowning.