But for what?
I have succeeded in nothing but failure.
I couldn’t stop her mood from changing,
Or the kids from calling,
The sun went down carrying my competency on it’s back.
The lashes from her tongue left only surface scars,
Not enough to last, just stinging in the moment,
Makes us recoil our hands from the hot flames.
Until she begins to mumble from some non contextual bible again.
Help, we needed help.
We were suppose to help.
Why couldn’t we help?
This is your everyday, her waking moment to her eyes shutting.
And the in between is spent with restless wondering.
I just want to ease the burden, but I failed.
My own grandmother, I can’t understand.