Death Poems

The pain that I felt
When I wrote this poem
Is what you need to experience
To write this type of poem

I sit under a bridge in Nigeria,
Understanding why
I left Estonia to come
Be with my mother
We fought. I fought

Her ideologies sink
Into me like sharp nails
Dig into my little back
And spilled blood on the floor

I mop dirt
from the house that I lived in
Suddenly, I knew that
I loved my mother
And she loved me

Together, we showed it
in a way that I laughed
And she laughs
so pure

I giggle at the dimples
below her chin

We hug tightly,
a warm embrace
Till the very end
Of when
I will never see
Her again

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