Tiny

A drop of water, stereotypically a crystalline shaped sphere, one that glistens with the pain of thousands or the pain of one single soul. And yet, sometimes it glistens with the joy and happiness of a hundred or it glistens with the happiness of less than half a soul. A powdered cheek, or maybe it’s a facecloth washed face clean of any artificial beauty that lets the crystalline sphere stroll down the pores like it’s falling from its family and is desperately grasping at the pores to make its way back home. Funny thing is, those eyes that sit upon the artificial beautified face, those spheres can’t grab onto any pores, all because they’re clogged with unnatural powder and liquid and oh yes it’s called makeup. 

I miss the days when spheres of liquid only fell when the tiny child would fall off their bike, landing on the tiny pebbles and five day old asphalt that had just barely dried. When after you fell from the bike you’d call for your mamma, or your pappa, and when they came you’d let your liquid spheres stroll down your face, and grab onto your parents hand and they would embrace you tightly and maybe even cry with you, because if you’re in pain your parents always gotta let you know they care that you got hurt, they care what happens to you. And they would tell you it will be alright sweety, momma loves you. And if you didn’t experience that from either momma or poppa, then I’m sorry that you never felt the hand that wiped the tears from your face. And I’m sorry if instead of a gentle caressed hand you felt a harsh slap across the face for being too reckless and hurting yourself. And I’m sorry if the reason you hide your face behind that makeup is because underneath your makeup is the tears that never got wiped away and tiny bruises mark your face, oh I’m sorry if no one ever told you that they love you like no other. And I’m sorry if your momma died from a car accident and you were there with her, and I’m sorry if you blame yourself for a parents death, and I’m sorry if the last words you ever said to someone you love were I hate you. And I’m sorry if your daddy hits you with a belt if he hits you with his cold and drunk hand. Oh I’m sorry if your momma or your poppa comes home drunk to you, and speak nonsense that you won’t ever learn to understand. I’m sorry if you have to be the adult in your family. I’m sorry if you’re all alone at home and every afternoon that you come home from school and you find your parents arguing and swearing at each other. Oh I’m so sorry if you don’t know what motherly love is.

When the day turns cold and the sun turns to the moon, and the stars replace your pretty flying sunset, and you look into the window and see your reflection. A handsome boy or a beautiful girl and you wonder why you have these tiny spheres strolling down that pretty face of yours.oh just remember that for every star there’s a soul that died and left a family behind, remember that you’re never alone. And when you see yourself in the window think of all the reasons that you’re still alive. Even if they’re tiny reasons. Even if you think your parents don’t love you, remember all those tiny reasons that you’re still alive. At least they come home and you’re not living on the street, at least they’re giving you some sort of touch. At least they kiss you in some way or form whether it be in hateful, cruel or kind words. and just remember that you’re never alone. Those spheres of yours, they have a flavour, they taste of salt and taste of beauty, I tried mine once, it made me smile before I cried a little bit more. Even within the pain there’s always some form of beauty. 

And if you never knew what motherly love was, you better be damn sure that when you grow up and hold that baby child of yours, a little girl or a little boy, you be sure to hug them tight and call them yours. You be sure that when they fall from that bike thats giant to them, you be sure to cry with them and tell them that they’ll be okay, kiss them on the forehead and hug them tight. And when they scrape their knee ask them if they want you to kiss it away before you place a bandaid on their scrape. And tell them that they’re not alone. Be sure to not come home drunk, be sure you never strike your child or they’ll feel just like you did. And if you never got hurt at home and felt like they loved you with all their heart, be sure to treat them just as your parents treated you. 

I love my dad, I love my mom, and I love my brother. They love me with all their heart. They’ve never come home drunk and they’ve never sweared at each other, and they’ve never hurt me physically. They always try to comfort me. They buy me stuff when we don’t have money for extra things. We don’t got money but we got family love. I doubt many families get to stay at home and work at home and not leave their kids. My dad can’t work and my mom can only work every once in a while but when she does I’m sure to help. I love my family.

Dedicated to my family and every person who’s gone through struggles with their family. Let me tell you, someone out their loves you. And I’m sure your parents do as well, they just don’t know how to show it.

This was the prompt for today.

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