I am the daughter
they don’t talk about in books,
I am ‘The Guide to Parenting’s worst fear.
Girls like me
refuse to be in those pages.
So we write our own words,
Black ink, low quality paper.
I walk around proud
with eyes like my mother,
but we rarely see eye to eye.
Doesn’t mean I don’t love her,
I do. So I try my best to hide my wild side.
Did I say ‘wild’? I meant,
Disappointing.
But exciting,
Nonetheless.
In front of her friends,
I’m an angel but
with my own, I demand to be
a goddess.
Who reads the ABC’s
“G-O-D-I-E”
and kisses boys with lips
glossed by profanities.
I love my mother, I honestly do.
So I try to hide this monster of truth
because I am beyond convinced
this sharp reality will tear her gentle skin
Her arms can’t handle
the weight of my sins.
And her devoted heart,
can’t take questions like,
“WHY IS ‘GOD’, ‘HIM’?”
My curiosity is a bullet,
And it’s my mama can’t run fast.
So I’ll keep all this to myself,
Who knows til’ when I can last.
I love my mother, I do.
But I don’t trust her when she
tells me I’m beautiful.
So I try to find beauty in my own terms-
bold, brave and very reckless.
And I know, I know that scares her.
My lovely, lovely mother.
‘A Letter That Will Never Reach My Mother,’ Arisha Rozaidee (via arisharozaidee)
