What Mommy couldn't see was that I was landlocked, trapped I'm the midst of my very thoughts- screaming for help to get out. What Mommy couldn't hear was my voice. My omnipresent exertions of fear. What Mommy couldn't taste was sweet success from the hand of her daughter. I brought home a "C" on my report card- how dare I be so ignorant. What Mommy couldn't feel was my hand, attached to hers in my imagination but furiously detached in reality. What Mommy couldn't smell was her own "stank" attitude.


But Mommy grew up. Now she uses every sense to complete this mother daughter duet. No longer Bebe&Phia, but mother and daughter, my guardian and I meshed. The glass that represents my emotions is still stained red for the blood of my heart's cuts. But my mother's touch is Neosporin- Steadily and quickly healing me.