Mother, Do You Know?


Mother, do you know?
Do you know what it’s like to be yourself?
To breathe easy?
To live without the pressure of the world?
To have your beauty admired and not taken away?

Mother, do you feel less than?
Like there’s no one rooting for you?
Like you’re unimportant?
Like you are only needed when useful?

Child, it is not a question of knowing
I have spent millennia being free, and untouched by the despair of men.
I know what it is like, yet I forget.

I have not seen a time where I was truly me in ages,
Where I was respected and not used at his convenience,
Where there was no need for my destruction and exploitation.
But that time is gone.

There is only the time of metal and electricity,
A time where what I provided is no longer enough.
That is all there is my child.
I know but I cannot remember.

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