I Watched My Mother Paint

I watched my mother paint,
Concealing covertly — but painting.
To cover hate,
From a plate of which she never ate.

I watched her cover over blue and purple
With beige and cream.
I watched a woman too afraid to dream.

I watched her fake a life
She failed to create.

I watched her from below,
Knowing I would never know that blow.

I watched her from right below,
In ways she will never know.

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