My Mama thought

My Mama thought I’d have a BETTER life without her.

My Mama thought I’d be better off without her.

She thought a lot.



And then again and again

Stripping the taste out of such a good recipe

With me as an ingredient

And leaving herself with her results to view

Self made woman’s life.

But I ask

Where is god?

Is god in the middle of her recipe of life at the end of each day?

Where is God?

In her references of me?

My Moms mind thought


What. Does her heart say?

Is her heart even allowed to speak?

Or does her mind call all her shots beyond the world of me?

I feel. Deeply.

She’s crying out.

To the God in her box of goodies.

Possibly begging.

God to make this right?


She’s finally contrite?

Remember please.

I’m talking about my Mama now.

Don’t get carried away with all that adoption ass bullshit.

She’s still my Mama.

Nothing really changed but my location.

My mind.


Clearly sees it all.

All the role plays.

Lines given.

  • Repeated with care. Holding meaning
  • Meaning I have it all.
  • Beyond my Mamas walls.
  • What?
  • My mind is like a rubberband.
  • All stretched out
  • Cuz Mamas don’t ever. Ever. Ever.
  • Let go with their hearts.
  • Mama thought.
  • I’d believe her stories?
  • I’m
  • Tickled and pleased to know and understand how hard it was for Mama to even stand now.
  • Living without me.
  • Thinking she’s gave me better.
  • I still found her each day.
  • Talking thought people to me.
  • Seemed so strange to be me growing up adopted.
  • Cuz my Mama
  • Packs a wallop.
  • You can’t even run from your Mama
  • Not even stamped adopted.
  • ❤️💋
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