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.