I see her suspended there
Spinning slowly, floating,
Endlessly turning round and round
In deep, dark space.
Her lips are moving,
Her arms outstretched,
Begging as she turns to me.

But I can’t hear what she’s saying.
By My Loving Mommy

The thing that really made this one come together for me is the title; I remember I used to stare at myself in the mirror for hours at a time sometimes trying to figure out what it was that I was missing. I could never put my finger on it but for some reason the person staring back at me wasn't me. This poem definitely captured that feeling for me.

Thanks as always, Mommy; cya next week!