Birthed in the inferno,
Of my mothers own personal hell,
This might just be why,
I don't handle the "cool" very well.
Raised in the confusion,
Of my mothers dichotomous existence,
This might just be why,
I'm unsettled by the stability of self mastery.
Educated in the arts,
Of my mothers survivalist philosophies,
This might just be why,
I don't easily ask for help.
Graduating from a lifetime,
Of studying her criticisms,
This might just be why,
I mastered in self loathing scriptures.
Having begun my next academic course,
Dissecting profound loss and grief,
This might just be why,
I'm learning to see the possibilities of vulnerabilities.
Being on this next lifetime course of self discovery,
A course in which, she will not, cannot lecture me,
This might just be why,
I'm reliably and responsibly researching the reasons that make me enough.
Maybe I am enough.
