To my Omi, the one with an “I”

Exhausted

By years and years

Blessed and cursed

So many times

Loved by everyone but herself.

Supported by everyone but herself.

Feeling like left behind

While being the center of attention.

It’s all about her,

She is just not herself anymore.

They seem to care,

She just does not know the person they care for.

Bound to the chair she does not like.

Wondering,

What will be next after waking up.

–

Life is stupid

It does not care about us.

It starts and ends on its own.

So what’s our place

In this piece of art?

What do we do?

I want to be good

To others and to myself.

I want to be happy sometimes.

I want at least one person to grief,

When I am gone.

–

To my Omi with an “i”, who was the mother to my Hero. A strong woman of a different time. She was as good of a grandparent you can get, and my childhood memories will forever include her.