Chapter 1: Thank You Del

Sat, 08/09/2014 - 22:53 -- 47bz


The thought that still runs through my mind as i lay in my bed typing this sucky poem.
United States

I am not a strong poet nor a good storyteller,
so please do not expect a sonnet or anything stellar.
What I am about to type is nothing but a mere thought,
A youngster at ten I thought these thoughts I sought to fought
Nothing big, nothing small but what I felt was something that made my heart melt.

I was a brat, a spoiled brat; I ceased to be one when she was born, oh she was a beauty.
Born with the brightest smile, I envied her; I was no longer a single child.
I was not aware of the consequences she would bring, soon she would start asking...

Mother worked for hours at her job, coming home tired as hell.
“Mom can you take me here”, “Mom can you do this”, “Mom where is…”
The never ending whines, the trouble I put her through finally someone rung the bell,
someone or something inside me, I began to crack, for i have finally found a sweet bliss;
her name was Del.

Thirteen; I was 13 when I accepted my responsibilities as her elder.
Rebellious acts I would still be making, not even caring what I would be putting my mother through. 
Doing things I should not be doing, crying without anyone knowing, but coming home I held her,
There is no words to describe the positive vibes Del would give; without her I grew blue.

You see my friend, I hated life.
The more I learned about my past the more I despised it.
I was the most emotional at 14, would not put down that knife,
Just one glance at her, I could see my reflection and she taught me to love life bit by bit.

Fourteen: still skipping school and drinking alcohol, doing things I should not be, I would still upset mother.
“I hate you.” Strong words that came from my mouth, I still did not bother.
I loathed myself; I knew I was doing wrong in life,
too young for alcohol, too young for this single thought.
And these thoughts that raced through my mind, I had to play it off.
“I’m fine, I’m fine I swear mom.”
Picked me up in a run-down car, always starting strife.
I am nearly dying, I felt lost. You could hear the wheeze followed by a last cough.

1... 2... 3... do it.

How many ambulances would it take until I realized I have it great?
How many more shots would it take for me to realize I am her role model?
How long does it take?!

But, I would see myself in her eyes when I got home; she’s not my child but we share a common trait.

“Mom I am going out.” Coming home late, I could barely even toddle.
Never knew until that night what I put my loving mother through.
Still thinking thoughts that I refused to fought.

Fifteen: We drove for miles to start new, always waking up to the smell of coffee brew.
Alas I was sober and happy. Diagnosed with a chronic illness,
I refuse to believe that, I am fine, but mother was there to witness.

Mother knew who I was. My mother is my mother and I never appreciated her,
Innocent Del grew to be a pain, a pain I still adored since she helped me find myself.
Despite not knowing what she had done; my past has become a blur because of her.

Because of the fact my mother gave labor to this sweet child, who would help me fight,
fight the biggest war I would ever have to face.
Because of the fact I held hatred within, she shined bright;
Bright for me and showed me the way; I was put in my own place.

Sixteen: I still cannot express myself, but I worship my mother for her strength.
I have seen her cry; I have seen her pain through her eyes.

Now, I know I am not a saint, I have sinned enough and I know my mom had it tough,
But she birthed two angels: One who would help me get through a crisis
and another one that will assist her through her fight.
She will make it soon enough.
We all will.

As you see, that thought I thought when I was ten,
was merely the thought of my life.
I was fortified since then,
as I refuse to hold another knife.

I can tell you, “Honor thy mother and father” is not only a religious act.
Mama and Papa go through hell and back to give you what you want, and that’s a fact.
But momma was a single mother, who grew tired of my pissy attitude.
She was never in the right mood...

I will tell you once, if you’re a troubled young adult, one who can relate to this single thought,
Then I hope you too can find yourself someone like Del to help your soul not rot.

“Define Del: \Del\ noun: a special person who will guide you through your low points in life and help you reach your desires to be happy”

Thanks to Del, my little sister with the brightest smile and most gorgeous eyes,
My savior, my muse, the little devil who runs around and fills the house with smile and laughter.
Never had to see me frown, never had to hear my cries,
but stood with me 'till it was all over.
I was a mess; I wouldn't want her to take after.

And thanks to Del, she helped me grow my love for her and my own mother.
Thanks to Del, I left hatred alone.
I left my rebellious acts alone,
I left the game of death.
I swear, I would never ask for any other.

I have a reason to be here, a million of reasons to be here,
and it is all because of you, my dear.
I have fought and fought and it is joy that you brought...

You are an exquisite intellect for a six year old, I have grown fond of you,
for I have seen my true reflection in your eyes,
I have grown tired of the color blue.

Anything else? Oh yes, of course...

Thanks to Del, she's helped me express the slightest thought into a moral of my life.
What could have I done without you, my sweet Del. 

Happy Birthday darling.


This poem is about: 
My family


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