I don't expect this to pass, but at the very least I got it in.
A Coffin is a Chrysalis
Spoiler
“I don’t need your sympathy,” she should’ve told me,
Weaving herself with blood and saliva.
She had wet her bed for the second time,
The oxygen tanks clink as we cleaned her mess.
“I don’t need your inspiration,” she should’ve told me,
Throwing away the wigs she bought last summer,
The only things that made her think
She could live a normal life.
“I don’t need your prayers,” she should’ve told me,
As an ambulance drove her to a hospital
She’s thrown up in the nurse’s lap,
If hell existed, they would’ve wished it for her.
“I need the truth.” she should’ve told me,
Tubes shoved up her running nose,
Artificial lungs my father couldn’t afford
Lengthening her misery.
But she never told me any of those things.
She never said a word.
I hated my mother
Like I hated the doctors that gave her brochures
And the priests that gave her false hopes.
For she was a caterpillar,
Hiding herself in a wooden chrysalis
Burying herself six feet underground
Before emerging a winged gift to God.
Her silence made me a worm,
A young heretic with no purpose, no life,
The only wings I would grow,
Would be of hollow blasphemy.
I am a worm,
And I’ll tell people what my mother
Should’ve told me,
Before I build my coffin,
And become a moth.
