Mother

"I hope whoever she is is proud of you, that person you lost."
 
In an instant he was not the wild vagabond, leaping from roof to roof and swinging down into danger at a single moment's notice. He was a small boy in a mask, doing as all small boys do -
 
Pretending.
 
You, who isolates yourself within despair
Reflecting only poisoned roots and gnarled branches twisting
Allowing vines to wrap your mind and lay it bare
With all your hope abandoned to this fiction you are living
You, who only sees a barren path ahead
No peaceful shade to offer only rended branches swaying
The quiet that you sought now suffocates instead
Forcing you to hear the very heart that you are breaking
What whispered words do you hear
In a voice you do not know
Could the lies that you believe
Be a fear of the unknown
If you don't know who you are
Then who is it you hate
All the lies that swallow you whole
Don't even know your name
Hey
Hey
Hey
Who is it you hate
Hey
Hey
Hey
Who is it you hate
 
Mercy is the name for Mother on the hearts and minds of children. It is to a mother of mercy one turns when the world becomes too hard; it is the guiding hand of that motherhood which steers the rudder of one's life. It is to a mother that the first pains of life are brought - broken bones and skinned knees, first crushes and first heartbreaks. In a mother's arms that a child finds rest, comfort, and certainty amid the uncertain world around them as they grow and explore, learn and question, and ultimately take those first brave steps out on their own.
 
You, the seed within a heart that reaches out
To satisfy a thirst you've never known before existed
But you're too far from any source to end your drought
No wellspring to call upon
No rivers to descend in
So you, who dwells upon horizons out of view
The ground that you were sown upon is desolate and wilting
An empty pattern that is mirroring your truth
That no matter what you have you'll only dream of what you're missing
What whispered words do you hear
In a voice you do not know
Could the lies that you believe
Be a fear of the unknown
If you don't know who you are
Then who is it you hate
All the lies that swallow you whole
Don't even know your name
Hey
Hey
Hey
Who is it you hate
Hey
Hey
Hey
Who is it you hate
 
Some part of him knew he was staring, frozen, at the Woman. How could she know - though the train of logic in the back of his mind connected the dots easily; the sister had spoken of what he'd told her. It made sense, of course - she would return to the light of her normal life and share her brief moment within the shadows.
 
Mother is the name for Mercy on the hearts and minds of all children.
 
You, a shadow of the life that you project
Your withered leaves bely this lonely visage you protect
And carved upon this vessel are the scars that you collect
A gallery of truths that would be better to forget
But you, a cinder of the fire that's yet to come
Will you just sit and mourn this fragile thing that you've become
Or instead will you consume the very things you can't outrun
Until you finally see all of the strength that you draw from
What whispered words do you hear
In a voice you do not know
 
He'd murdered his mother to enter the world, carrying a curse through her blood that now grew night by night within him. The hunger was a living thing which nightly gnawed upon the narrows of his mind. Each drink, each feigned bit of amusement, not only failed to quell the beast but seemed to egg it onwards all the more. Each night flying upon the rooftops of the poor and destitute, hunting the monster which he somehow knew was out there, only drove him more into that hunger as a predator among prey, seeking other predators for the ultimate hunt.
 
Mother was the name for mercy on the hearts and minds of all children.
 
But there was no mercy left for him. Only revenge and the long, dark, night that lay beyond.

Could the lies that you believe
Be a fear of the unknown
If you don't know who you are
Then who is it you hate
All the lies that swallow you whole
Don't even know your name