fester

I have a wound
fester, bubble, burn
awaken me
twisted ice branches crackle
under weight and heavy sighs
awaken me
than fester-bubble and burn

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Deep night thought. I have no manual to you my lovely child. You didn't come with an instruction booklet. I have no magic button to make everything alright. You were an act of surprise, not planned, not an complete accident. You came and chose me, and all I can try to give you is something better that what I had. I'll try to keep my depression under wraps, I'll leave if the marriage is sour, I'll stand up for myself. I promise you will never see the things that collapsed my trust as a child. The things that still make me so quiet that I still have one long scream. And even after all the forgiveness and understanding of what it's like to be human. The memory still remands. I'll try to protect you just enough but not to much so you gain independence. I'll try to instill what it's like to respect but still question authority. I'll do all I can.
But I am not perfect, forgive me for that when you start to judge the mistakes that I have made. Forgive me. That's all I can ask. Forgive me when one day the other mothers judge us, for their own insecurities, and my own for feeling judge.
Life is not easy, it's bumpy, the road of having a functioning not completely absent brain is sometimes hazardous. Realize that living the good life is not always easy, not always fair, and hardly anyone follows a written rule.