Stacy Morris

It took me a long time to realiseThat mothers are women who carry you And not necessarily in their womb.

She knew me beyond my actionsBeyond my shallow attempts at happiness.She knew I had darknessAnd when I undressedAnd showed her what I was made ofShe noddedKnowing I was unrepairableAnd said 'I'll be here for you anyway

You've got a lot to say for the one who walked away.

I felt torn Between living and dying Between sleeping and surviving.

It always felt as though there were a shaken beehive living in my chest. I could never rest.

We all knew she needed help.But none of us knew how.And none of us could swallow our pride and just ask her what she needed.I don__ know why.Maybe we were too ashamed we didn__ know how to approach our own mother.So we let the years slip unhappily past us and hoped we would never inherit the misery embedded in her soul.But I did.And I didn__ know how to say it aloud. And I still don__.

I can__ pinpoint the moment this all happened. The moment we broke. But we did.And it feels like acid in my throat.

It took me a long time to realise that mothers are women who carry youAnd not necessarily in their womb.

I think you feel like, unless you're damagedyou're not deep enough or mysterious enoughor complicated enough to ever be appreciated by another.And that is deeply untrue.