it’s
cold
and
wet
like a
dog’s
nose
empty
like
my
mother’s
eyes
so
i
paint on
a
smile
like
a
clown
pretending it will be okay
it’s
cold
and
wet
like a
dog’s
nose
empty
like
my
mother’s
eyes
so
i
paint on
a
smile
like
a
clown
pretending it will be okay
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
a child is a park of her/his mother, when a mother hates/only loves herself and cannot tell why, she often hates her child, it is easier and less painful that way
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you are as much poet as truth speaker and philosopher. brilliant at all.
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Consistently, some of the emptiest eyes I’ve ever seen have belonged to mothers.
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not good for either of us my friend. or the world at large.
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So very true, River.
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