Story for My Mother

Flesh meeting flesh, lovingly, desperately. Clasping hearts, one brimming sensitivity, the other’s care imparted by love, ravaged by bombs of our mother’s. Bones protruding against my ample gluttony, where are justifications so Motherly? O! Lamb Cosette suffering sweetly, only caresses betray the silent stoicism of your hunger. Giants above, breaking the ground with their blunders, turning your family into runners. But where to turn, O’ child of strife, when you’re a number no one accepts easily? Explosions rack your brain at night, sweet dreams becoming night terrors. Such a feeling unbeknownst to me, has become your reality. Two loaves of bread, a tin of soup; that is all your family is repaid for our mother’s errors. In the night your stomach growls. There is no use in asking mommy or daddy. Their bones protrude, the same as you, love becoming life’s sole pleasure.