Lemons

Lemons

 

My mother has never liked

the taste of lemons.

They are too sour,

displeasing.

 

That’s probably why she doesn’t like me.

 

A sack of lemons, freshly

sour squeezed.

spoiled

rotten

unloving daughter.

Disappointment.

 

That’s okay, I don’t like myself much, either.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741