Mother, the birds
you nestled have flown.
Grown, made nests of their own.
You taught us
to navigate stormy winds.
But I struggled with my fragile wings.
Loving me
was hard. I’m still trying.
I chased the normal by complying.
The chase
led me to embrace
flaws that made me grow against the grain.
I hide my pain
deep within my eyelids
I rest unrestful on troubled twigs.
Underneath
I struggle to breathe.
Mother, mother me.
