Shadows of Self

Looking at my feet, staring at the sky, wondering about nothing, not afraid to cry. Shadows cast on an old family wall, pictures remain from when we were small. Clouds are my ceiling, night is my friend, nature is healing, despite it's the end. I wander through darkness, a well inside of me, a place I frequent that no one can see. I see hands reaching up, arms stretched out, all that I gave for this feeling of doubt. Was I ever seen for who I am, honoured with love, did they give a damn? Behind the smiles, the presence of self, I feel so lost, put away on a shelf. I held the belief that if I could've just given more, I'd reach the place where I would soar. Years and tears roll around, who I was seems washed up and drowned. I am the ghost of a woman who thrived to be, honoured, respected, not taken for granted or washed out to sea. Staring into the moonlight, my blue eyes red, nothing feels peaceful, just over; dead. In this still depth of after-hood, I dig to remember did I ever do good; mother, spouse, sibling and daughter, all of me present without thinking further. I assumed I'd be rewarded in some special way, for the sixty plus years I gave away. Tired, lonely, a feeling I despise, learning that after, there is no reprise. Giving, giving, dishing it out, realising it's true, there is no clout. Numb from making other's beds, now I lay silent in the world I bred.