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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2313595-Mother
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Personal · #2313595
I have never tried poetry but this seemed to want out. Warning: It is a bit dark.
Mother


I awaken to see blood,
my emotions like a raging flood.
The police with guns ready,
my hands anything but steady.
I ask, “Is this a dream?”
My memories lost in a stream.
What have I done?
My troubles only begun.
My hands are cuffed,
my questions rebuffed.
I am pulled to my feet,
then thrown in car seat.
They look at me with disgust,
as my fate is discussed.

I look down at hands crimson red,
I look forward with dread.
We drive on in silence,
I battle with my conscience.
As I am told of my crime,
I feel as if covered in grime.
This act could not be,
it certainly was not me!
They tell me my mother attacked,
that it was me is a fact.
I suddenly remember her cries,
I ask, “Did she meet her demise?”.
I am thrown into a cell,
to face my own hell.

It is coming back to me now,
how could God thus allow.
I remember the abuse,
and how she would seduce.
The taste of a mother's lips,
and the rest of her bag of tricks.
No son should ever know,
all the rules she did forego.
I was brought before the court,
their vengeance I could not thwart.
Their decision was made against me,
but it was she who should not be free.
They locked me away on a hill,
to see her be free a bitter pill.

But her father stood by my side,
and my time I did bide.
I longed to be avenged,
but on ignorance I did depend.
For in ignorance is bliss,
and on the other side abyss.
I was finally set loose,
and with her I made truce.
She would try it again,
but my will was now sane.
I would go my own way,
to keep from being in that fray.
But she put an end to her own life,
which finally freed me from my strife.


Wanda G – Based on true events
© Copyright 2024 Wanda Jane (surge98b at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2313595-Mother