Help Francis Flisiuk fly across the Atlantic Ocean

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 Francis Flisiuk with mother

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By Blanka

Mother, If You Could See Me Now
Mother,
If You could see me now
Could You figure out how
My smile, my shape, my gait, my brow
Have all gone down
Did they drown?
Am I unhappy?
Or was I once
Experiencing an ounce
Of what they call
Gladness, joy, happiness, escape
These feelings I cannot drape
Over my shoulders
Like a gilded cape
Am I the image that life raped?
Am I the one left all alone?
Heart torn up, mouth agape
And if they get me
(Already did)
Can I escape
Can I get rid
Of them around me
The [...] inside me
Mother,
If you have to
Will you hide me?
Should you, though
I know I can’t
She shall walk in her own damned cant
Should I treasure, hide and gleam
Or teach and push and squeal and steam
Am I the mother or the daughter?
What lessons learned from
One or other?
Can I be one and not another?

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