Her mind was beautiful chaos.
In her thoughts, she was lost-
Lost in the depths of what seemed to be her own self-punishment.
Could she have been a better provider?
A better friend?
A better mother?
A better worker? No.
A worker was all she felt she was in life,
And perhaps that was a large part of who she was.
But that was not the extent of her being.
There was more she wasn't seeing:
A nurturer,
A healer,
A role model-
All in addition to the traits she perhaps didn't want to hold:
An autocratic leader,
A disheveled coordinator,
A scattered thinker.
Yes, these attributes were undeniably hers as well,
All a part of what made her ravishingly chaotic mind,
A mind unlike any other.
She soul-searched and climbed the ladder of her consciousness.
She wanted to feel free from judgment,
But also wanted to cast her opinions on those who were being repugnant.
She desired freedom,
Yet also yearned for roots and stability.
She reflected on the actions of others,
However, did not want to confront those of her own.
She did anyway, though,
Time and time again she doled out her own final blow.
Nonetheless, she had no need to, you see,
Because behind her back, those beloved judged and bashed her,
Consistently crucifying her, counting each of her flaws.
She very well may have been the world's most misunderstood woman.
She would agree with this sentiment,
Or at the very least, wouldn't disagree.
Each day, she would pray for acceptance, love, and protection,
And would continue to do so, hoping for change and affection.
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Author Notes
This poem is dedicated to the most important woman in my life. I recognize her, and see her true self.
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