My life is an erupting volcano,
hot and fiery and scorching to the touch.
Maddening arguments that burn myself and others.
Lava flowing so fast I can’t slow down and see it.
Smoke clouding my eyes and unraveling before me.
Erupting whenever I see the woman that is called mother.
A fierce and fiery look in her eyes makes me tremble.
Fireballs of words hurled at each other.
The aftermath is just lonely black dust.
Dust covering my face and choking me.
Standing in the stillness before the next eruption.
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your vision, your voice