you are not yourself

tw: lightly implied abuse

while i sit in pews
with deep emerald hues
drowning in the watery blues
i devour my dues.

While i sit in my rot,
an eternity and a thought,
i hope not to be caught
my hands shake, prayer distraught.

while i sit, i demand
a dream, oh so grand
“i wish to meet you in another land
where you are not yourself.
you lend me your hand
and you are not yourself,
you tell me you love me,
and you mean it but
you are not yourself.”
and while i know you are true
(due to you not being you)
the mother i know
would rather be shrew
and never would i let me trust you.
sincerely,
your “piece of s**t kid” loves you too.