Untitled

I really ought to be doing homework, or dishes, working on college applications, or doing laundry. I can't. I can't sit here guiltily, working on meaningless things as my mother thinks or feels that I am not grateful, not thankful, not totally in debt, to a woman who has made me a possibility.

Untitled:

I really ought to stop typing, ought to work, ought to stop. I cannot.


She sits she speaks she's made me me.
She's glorious, has worked for free,
Solely to see me be.

To push and prod to pray for me,
To one day see me free.

I am wholly grateful,
Wholly burned to hear that "I am hurt"
or that I have lacked the words,
to demonstrate the clarity
With which it must be heard,

I am thankful, so thank you,
and lest I sound absurd,
let me say I love you endlessly
To be sure it's heard

-A hard-headed son