CRUX

Two feets under.

Betrayal feels like heartbreak,but it is not.

Lust feels like love,but it is not.

Truth looks like reality,but it is not.

Pain wants to make you stronger,but it does not.

Weaknesses try to hide,yet it can not.

Your heart is pure until it's not.

Fury resembles anger,but they are different people.

Wrath is revenge's twin sibling,identical but diverse

Death is the penalty for the living,not just the wicked.

I sometimes wish we could all breath under water.

Then some would live underneath and others would live above.

But God does not make mistakes.

Only man does.

I did.

My feet leads me to the flurry scent of fresh flowers,adorning the mighty gravestone,and beneath is the soul of a child who never got to see the light of day.

Carla Barret,not Germaine.

Only a few minutes left,I think,as I kneel before the cemented slab,raising my hands --that once held the flight ticket--in prayer,I pray that my evil would be exchanged for the child's innocence,and that the years she couldn't live will be added to mine.

I suddenly wonder if we would have had a good relationship.

If I would have been a good mother.

The answers come to me before I even ask,

True mothers do not trade the life of their children to cocaine,and marijuana.

A true mother would never have let her child die.

Do not excuse my ignorance,I want to take the blame.

I am not my mother,not as selfish,but I am no better also.

Worried that her nonchalant nature may run in my veins,I decide that children would be a luxury I will forfeit.

No one deserves a remake of what I went through.

I sniffle back snot,hardly embarrassed by my appearance since I was before my only source of joy--besides her was no one else.

And the few seconds I imagined what she may have looked like was a bliss of a moment.

A moment I would happily sacrifice my all to relive.

***********
"When life gives you lemons,throw it back at it and buy your own damn farm".