Estella
My mother, I am not;
Yet in my head she lives.
Her voice I cannot distinguish from my own.
Cold and callous,
Protective and precious to me.
I will enact her revenge.
I will make her pain known to man.
But a weapon is not its wielder,
An entity of its own.
What am I apart from her?
Softness drained,
I lie in wait,
Hardened against the world.
Sympathy estranged,
I rain down her pain.
It's nothing personal,
It's just my mother in my head.
Yet in my head she lives.
Her voice I cannot distinguish from my own.
Cold and callous,
Protective and precious to me.
I will enact her revenge.
I will make her pain known to man.
But a weapon is not its wielder,
An entity of its own.
What am I apart from her?
Softness drained,
I lie in wait,
Hardened against the world.
Sympathy estranged,
I rain down her pain.
It's nothing personal,
It's just my mother in my head.
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This Poems Story
This poem is about Estella Havisham from Charles Dickens\' novel, Great Expectations.
Public Collections Containing This Poem
Other Poems By This Author
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Estella
PoetA Lady of America
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The Top Of Washburn Hill
PoetA Lady of America
Wow... Love how you wrote this very nicely done
Wow! Is this Estella from Great Exspectations? If so, I’ve read the book and Estella is such an interesting character. Well done!