Escaping Though The Eyes Of My Own Cantaloupe

My mind is what seems to be 

A certain cantaloupe of memories that proceeds through my brain

Wandering through my brain like an withered old lady

Shouting at the mail man because he came two minutes late

He knows that she doesn't really exist

But, what does it mean to be a ghost?

Does he really know that she's not there?

Or is he just pretending?

Sometimes I like to pretend I'm young again

Far from home

Exploring through the grassy fields 

Through the icy tundra

And everything in between

Knowing that danger is around every corner

And snack time is just a few yards away.

Then there are times

Whilst wandering though my cantaloupe of memories

Were all I see is shadows

Surrounding me

Screaming at me

Shouting at me until I realized it wasn't them it was me!

I quickly pull away

And all I could see is my mother staring at me

Looking at me with such abhorrence. 

I don't know if i'll ever be the same again

Reviews

[poetickeys]

"do we let the sins of our mothers haunt us forever"
this is topic that can be used to explain trial and error through history and the very psychological makeup of the human mind.

I am very new to this site and would greatly appreciate if you would take the time to give feedback on my first piece. Thank you

[Emily B]

do we let the sins of our mothers haunt us forever? i've been pondering that one for many years