Poem: Seasons of Destruction, Pt. II

I cannot forget all her regrets,
Or the determination she employed;
No, I cannot forget or reject
How my mother was destroyed

Over the year, it’s become quite clear
I can see how it was nearly art—
Whether through Fate or Fear is unclear,
But t’was a perfectly-planned falling apart

In midnight musing, her legacy’s confusing,
Though it has viciously-sharpened claws;
It’s all quite bruising, and I fear I’m losing
In trying to dodge her rotten maw

I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.

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