A Loving Mother.
Mentally she’s exhausted, from drinking one or two shots more plenty.
But there’s really nothing to do around the age of twenty. I’m sure any
Surprised mother with a baby due would probably do the same things.
As the seed of me proceeds the in the early stages of her pregnancy,
She looks at me, wondering if one day I’ll ever amount to something.
To my mother, maybe so, but to the father of her child I was nothing.
As 7 birthdays pass, displacement of danger starts to vanquish to me.
Put in this horrid basement, their anger charts beyond a tolerable degree.
Bickering, yelling, fussing all around, the house was never unsound.
To the ground my mother once fell, whelps and bruises often abound.
What kind of monster is he? Is life normally this way? Do we still stay?
Questions of worry, fearing she is harmed everyday, glad she’s still ok.
Now I’m 21, all grown up, and moved out a couple years ago, I was 18.
And they are now divorced, but mother has many more painful things.
Diseases have taken over her fragile, old, but still a very strong heart.
In her deathbed a tumor lies on her head, affecting her greatest body part.
Because her mind kept her sane, keeping my father away from her brain.
Explaining the remaining love, refraining for me, will never fade away.
And bless her my mother’s poor soul, as I stand at her stone burial site.
As I read from this writing, started at the age of four. You probably might
Not understand how she loves, despite beatings that potentially overpowered.
As her “man” raised his hand, she’d act happy, as if he gave her a flower.
Her motherly love never left, it still stands within her frail and lifeless hand,
She planned to keep me safe till death, no matter what the circum stance.
I will get links. I kind of fell off at the end. I had writers block through the whole peice, just trying to keep writing.
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Originally Posted by Atticus
