Mom, where did the songs go?
They played in my mind when I was a boy
Like syrup leaking from the bottle
After nuking it for thirty seconds
I remember feeling the rhythm
Every time you tucked me in
Can I stay in your house?
It would be just to be near someone
I'm sorry I took 20 quarters from your purse
The music told me to share with the kids
Can we go get dinner?
Where we sit and dine and talk about
Nothing in particular.
Listen to the harmonies of the girls
Stroking guitar strings in the cafe corner
Try to stop myself from crying
Mom, am I an adult?
I paid Progressive today, snake oil and all
It's getting harder to hear the lyrics
Behind the cacophony of voices in my head
Mom, I'm tired
Twenty pages of a manuscript that no one will read, to collect dust in an online submission forum long since offline.
Can you tell me if there's a song that makes the world remember the joy it felt?
Mom, I'm sorry I can't be in that place
Where the lights are flouride bright
And the people choke themselves with stethoscopes.
I wish I was the musician caressing a violin on a street corner
Purpose has left me purposeless.
I mi
ss you, Mom.
I wish I was the person you thought I was.
-
Author:
Simple Tendencies (
Offline) - Published: January 3rd, 2026 06:11
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments1
The existential search for identity is in all of us and we call out to our mother that is now long gone for guidance but there is no voice but our own that comes back in echo. We have now grown up and need to find ourselves. A raw and deep write of where one is and where one will go.
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