Life

It was hard 

Hard to do all the time 

To be a parent to someone that is supposed to be your partner 

To someone that is supposed to be your equal 

It became too much 

To make up in all the places where his parents lacked 

To mother a grown man pushing 30 was a responsibility she no longer wanted to take on 

She was tired of repeating directions the way the a kindergarten teacher repeats the abc’s 

It was not a song that she wanted to sing 

She was over it 

She realized like so many before her, that all her efforts would never take flight on her 

But another…

Another that would receive everything she worked so hard to make better

Kind of like a potter 

That spins the wheel to mold the clay, that borrows the air to dry the clay and then uses the brush to paint the clay and borrows the heat to seal in the color 

So much efforts done for a piece that will be given away 

But she wasn’t a potter 

She did not want to give away her efforts 

She did not another to reap her harvest 

But it was too late of course 

The efforts she made will make a change 

As soon as she were to walk away 

He would see it all clearly 

Everything that she said 

The words that rose above in her silence 

He would hear it all 

He would use them all and be that person 

The right person a little too late

To belong to another…

Bionica