A Million Letters of Apology

I feel like a fraud-
My tears camouflage in my mother’s cup of tea
– an illegal alien.
I send a million letters of apology for the sour aftertaste in her perfect drink,
For the part of me so desolate.

I feel like a fraud-
There’s a room inside my room,
The blue of it’s walls sometimes leaks:
Wrecks every trophy, every star that I achieved.
These doors are so weak when the air bleeds.

I feel like a fraud
When I stand halfway through the ecotones of two worlds,
In the echoes of what I could have been
If in sincerity I were my mother’s daughter,
Not a sardonic hoax of her genes.

My elegies are merely letters of apologies
For the ghosts I’ve buried with my sequestered screams ,
In the walls of her home.
For my eyes deluged by red melancholy,
For being her broken bangle of hexed misery.

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