muting the poet

lately, i feel trapped in a prison of pink and blue flowers...
something so soft, so delicate, and yet their bars won't ever spell out the answers to my questions...
like...if you love eachother enough, does it really work, does it really last?
am i being lied to, or am i just not hearing your truth?
have i lost my edge, or has someone or something else stolen your attention?
or other questions...such as...
why do fathers end up giving up?
why don't they love you like you'd like?
after all these years, would it be easier to write him off?
and the question i find myself coming back to, that i can't bear the truth about...
do all women subconsciously seek men who are just like their fathers?

and...mommy, can you hear me?
because daddy's been dying a long time, he's long gone...

lover won't love anymore...

and i still don't feel good.

your boy's grown up big and strong and healthy...
the girls like him a lot...
he plays baseball well...
smart...
but he does too many drugs, momma...
i'm not sure if it's cause he misses you...
or if he's just bored...
maybe he doesn't feel good either...

daddy sure misses you...
so bad that he's dying a slow death from missin' his woman...
got rid of everything so nothing would remind him of you...
of what he's lost...
and the life he wishes he could lose...

grandma just turned 70...
and just beat breast cancer...
she's lopsided now, but well taken care of...
her spirits are higher than mine...
always have been...
she pushes me...
the way i wish you were still around to do...

your brothers...
one seems pretty happy...been with his lady a long time now
the other seems unhappy...not quite sure why

as for me, momma...
i'm doing about the same...
my heart's never really stopped hurting...
and the stomachache's still come and go...
wouldn't ya know it?
i don't have a problem swallowing pills now...
so many things have happened, and we've grown so big, momma...
adults now...
but something inside me...
i'm not sure what...
never feels good...
i feel like i'm in a constant dream state that i fear i'll never wake up from...
i never once...found god.
i've never felt kind of comfort since i was little and you'd hold me in your arms...
i guess on the outside, you'd be proud of me...
but inside...
you and i are exactly the same...
i just don't think i'm ready to swallow as many pills as you did...