Unchanged Sink Hole

Melancholy tail spins
As she stands against her mother with an already dwindled patience
Watching the eruption pace to her chest, then hands
Where she starts to tackle ripping her hair out.
Every conversation- dropped;
Every ounce of trial-ing,
Failed from every beginning.

She seems to keep thinking she can change her.
Make her understand her daughter's reality for mere moments.
Speaking in circles 'til her chest is blue,
And almost running into the other room,
In a steady race,
Before she closes the door behind her,

And immediately cries.

I just want a mother that doesn't lie.
To herself, and therefore I..

Everyday the vanity taking up pieces of my soul as I abide..
Losing myself in the tiredness
Of continuing to try.

This thing,
Taking up my soul...

This girl, ever still trying to remedy the brokenness at home;

The same broken she ran away from years ago...
The same broken that followed her from there back home..
The same broken she loves in the faces of her chosen..

Mommy and her to blame..

And she knows it!
Tearing and screaming another night,
Anything to take away the pain,

Of another conversation attempted..
Failed before it began.
Feeling as nothing more than a ghost
To this Mother, Monster of hers..

Left alone..to brave..
Trying so hard to brave
The pain, so desolate...

The request, so hard.
As she just seeks to take my soul,

Uncaring of the returned.

And how I learned,
That she is my role-model..
Into being loved,

Because, Yes they...
Have done, so done just the same..

Taking my soul,

But somehow...never taking me with it;
In.

My candle dances fluidly with my tears,
As my mood, already sad, sour
Undulates into melancholy-

The heavy weights
Of not feeling bueyed, or loved
Enough for somebody to actually put in

The Effort.

That's what her love had taught me;

That I am nothing worth the effort-
This little girl sinking
Still waiting

To
Be
Raised.

Everyday, I with my arms wide out,
Passed like a hungry child in the streets;

She will NEVER see me...

And I am merely stuck in the in-between of that story told, and the patient, kind daughter she expects me to be...

As long as I let her be...

Nevermind me..

As long as I let her be.

Still searching for a way,
To make this all okay.

Meeting her everyday 95% of the way,
Each day failed,
The next anew.

And then there's that question...

"Why in the world am I playing Mother to you?!",..

And I'm tired...
Tired of trying..

Shutting my mouth, just for her, or them, or you!

Tired.
Of sinking...

Still waiting.

To be

Raised.

Is Self-Love born in this world, because we realize that if nobody loves us truly,
We've got to?!

I don't know how to weather her; the condition of her sanity..

And against my own loss, and emotionality,
The collapse, as in tonight,
Just seems suitable.
Understood.
Maybe even needed..

As this thing, so tough and trying to be,
Cries, cries,
Herself to sleep.

All the pain, releasing...
Sure enough to rise again
Another day.

I am strength.
Hear me sing...
Even if it be,

In whimpers.

Just in the sinking,

Waiting,
To be

Raised!