While my parents were away making money and travelling the world. I was raised by our housekeeper. I think in many ways this is one of the causes why I just don’t get my parents, or feel all that much for them.

I mean I love them. In that constructed way that you love someone that gave birth to you.

So this then is an ode to the lady that raised me. To my other mother.

Watch the clock, Madam

the tick-tock, madam

take your time, Madam

Hurry up, Madam

Are you mine, Madam?

Or I yours, Madam?

Are we ours, Madam?

Yes sir, no, Madam.

 

*thinks (WASH THE DISH, MADAM

YOU’RE THE BOSS, MADAM

SCRUB THAT STOVE, MADAM

LIKE YOU SHOWED, MADAM)

 

That’s my child, Madam

Snot nosed brat, Madam

Straight hair shocked, Madam

Blue eyes blocked, Madam

 

You like IT shiny, Madam

You like IT phony, Madam

You like IT shouty, Madam

 

You like me, “yes sir, no”, madam

BUT,

This time,

NO.

 

This time

NO,

Madam,

 

I AM DONE, MADAM!

LOVED AND LOSSED, MADAM!

SMILED AND WEEPED, MADAM!

 

NOW,

no more boss,

madam.

#Feel iT

Advertisements