Rotten apple tree
Mirrored my mother
That I grew hate
For my own reflection
I inherited so many
Of her features
I lost sight of my
Own reflection
I would cradle the pillow
Nurtured dream of her presence
It pains me
To be a motherless child
Heart shape wound
Dissect across my chest
Memories of you resurfaced
I often wonder do death have a purpose
I'm haunted about the mysteries
The things you could've
Taught me
The connect a
Womb-man to a child
Handheld touch that can't fade
Unmerciful scars
Unaltered seeds
What good deed
A motherless child
Could take a path
With no footprints of example
Innocence of barrettes flower printed dress
Lured hands caresses the breast
What pureness is left
How can I stand after you
How can I look at me when
I let you died within me
Comments (2)
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Join free Log infm110comphodent
There is always a conscience that divides the decision into a dilemma a man or woman sometimes regret. What U have decides when wet. So I pray that this is impregnable from penetration of evil. Your write evolves the interest believable.
Read fm110comphodent's poemsWoven
Sometimes when we swallow pain it becomes us. So sorrowful, your words are piercing.
Read Woven's poems