About my mother's relationship with escapism
|Author's Note: I'm working on a project where I comb through my mother's old work (she passed in 2015) and "co-write" them. I thought that it could be an interesting exercise, and I hope to someday publish the collection as a collaborative work. Any critique is much appreciated, I'm only a hobbyist. Thanks! -NightShift
I can’t escape. I can’t break free.
An old woman life’s made of me.
Although I’m young, I’ve grown so weak;
too weak to sing, or even speak.
Every time I turn my head,
a new pain’s to be faced.
I wish that I could find myself
a newer, better place.
A job, a home, a man,
are just the ropes that tie me down.
So many things depend on me,
that I’m forever bound.
Just as a bird that’s cruelly caged
will surely long to fly,
I yearn to feel the gentle breeze,
before my time to die.
I’ll someday touch the endless sky,
and fade to azure blue,
so I can become whole again
and start my life anew.
But, for now, I’m bound to stay;
only in dreams, I drift away.
If not for dreams, where would we be?
Forever bound, and never free.