Thursday, January 9, 2014

where is she


you write me poems
you bring me treats
and do all the right things
the good mother things
that are expected
or so you believe

it is only a ruse
a lie of your making
that those who have the power
believe along with you

they can never believe
 the angry young girl
and her fiery accusations
of wrongdoing by you

they can never believe
the hatred you sow
it must have grown
in my heart
on its own

they can never believe the evil men do
if it means believing
you turned your eyes from my pain
for you are the good mother
who does all she can
for the broken toy you no longer want

though you tell all of the love that burns bright in the world of your imagination