Mother Cactus

Cactus Mom

Growing up I got hurt multiple times by her spikes. Every time i tried to hug her she would harm me.

I got mad at her again. Tired of these burning wounds that i did not deserve.

With time i understood it wasn't her fault to be born a cactus. As well as it wasn't my fault for being soft to touch.

I tried being nicer, to caress the parts were the spikes couldn't touch me. It was fine for a while but then more spikes grew, ripping from her skin, making it impossible to reach her. Every night i would pray for her to become a beautiful lotus, only to feel ashamed, she was my mother,I shouldn't want to change her. I had to be grateful.

I got used to it, i had become a professional botanist, i needed her, and i embraced these past scars, a reminder of my roots.

Now I'm out here, against the world, and i can't feel loved.

Not until they harm me.

Because in reality,  i was told i had to bleed for that love. 

Oh. How i wanted to be unconditionally desired.

Now i see her, that old withered cactus giving its beautiful flower to the next generation. They didn't deserve it. I did.

I feel ashamed once more.

So grown and still I'm jealous of some little kids.

I wonder how would i have turned out if my mother had loved me.

(Decided to post this here too)