Darkroom

Nature Vs. Nurture

I ponder
if you see
through my sad eyes
the pain
that has been suppressed
even when I look away.
Does it hurt that I frown often?
Can you trace
the smell of smoke
that lingers on all of my shirts?
Do the instincts
that come along with
becoming a mother
only come alive when
my jaw clenches
and my hands
form into fists,
is that why you only hug me then?
Will you ever
tell me that you are proud?
And would you still be
if you knew everything?
I ponder.