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You told me I could hold my mother
Coming up with your own
Its like you’re mocking me.
Fooling yourself
Like you were ever real to me.
Saying peaceful words
Like wars are for casualties
Who don’t speak.
Like mothers should prosper
Off the bonds they broke.
Like the umbilical cord
Offers a premise of nurture
Even after the children have died
Into people
Who speak prose
Like words are spoken
When silence
Wont be allowed.
Who sing songs like beatings
Shouldn’t be condoned.
So they search for some kind of venting.
You have to be moral enough
That you can look past your sins.
You have to be pretty enough
So that you can tell yourself
”I really am not that ugly.”
You go around working
Like working makes you something.
Praising the lord
Like praising a man
Ever got you anything before.
You speak with slurred words
Like being drunk
Is the escape
You told me never to search out.
You told me I could hold my mother;
When my mother was dead.
