My mother always calls me an old soul,
And I’ll give her one thing: it’s true.
But the downside, mother,
Is that I am because of you.
When I was young, there was a new man for every holiday,
And as soon as he turned up, you’d simply shrink away.
There was an excuse and a lie for every time you drank,
And because of your habits, your presence shrank.
I had my brother… the one I lived with at the time,
But even his presence was more sublime.
I realized at a time in my life where I needed you most,
I had truly never been so alone.
So, I stepped up. Not for you, but for myself.
And I took the pieces of my soul that were lying lifeless on the shelf.
I grabbed my hot glue gun, and I repaired the dismantled parts,
Including my body, head and heart.
I kept what I was feeling to myself, because if not, what would happen?
A slap on the cheek, and my soul would blacken.
I laid low and spoke slow as your voice began to raise,
And my childhood fell into a sleepy daze.
I was cooking and cleaning from an age I can’t recall,
And as soon as I was noticed, my voice began to fall.
“I don’t need attention! I’m completely fine!”
Come on, dear child, you know that’s a lie.
Lost in the chaos of the drugs and the booze,
Letting my guard down was something I simply refused.
So, I let go of the idea of having a mother
Because, with me, you hardly bothered.
Instead of relying on you for a simple connection
I looked into myself for an ounce of affection.
I took a deep breath and let myself breathe,
Knowing there wasn’t a chance (not at all) I could be seen.
As my heart and my mind became more and more shielded,
I realized that I was the mother that I always needed.
So, I hugged myself, and kissed me goodnight
As our already dying relationship slowly fleeted.
People called me quiet, and as I grew older, my soul became more alive.
Now, today, I can simply strive
On my own, alone, and for no foul.
I raised myself, and with that, became an old soul.