Mother

Feedback Please

Mother, when can I go home to you?
I haven’t made any friends here
Everything smells like decay
I’ll get over those things you say

Mother, when can I go back?
To sleeping on my preschool carpet
When my only regret was none
God, I was a child of the sun.

Mother, when will you just die?
I'm sick of the gnawing
I’d prefer a gentle sickness now
Not wondering where and how

Mother, why can’t I smell the rain?
The pain, the pain, how I miss it
My sandwich tastes like static
How I long to be psychosomatic

Mother, I am the horizon
Which swallows the sun at night
And I am the streetlight
Which makes it starless.

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Posted Jun 8, 2026, 4:50 AM UTC